


The Viscount

by minutiae



Series: The Viscount [1]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Adoption, Age Regression/De-Aging, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Complete, Concussions, Curses, F/M, Family, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Apologizes, Gosh I should go back through and edit this again sometime, Happy Ending, Hurt Jaskier | Dandelion, Love Confessions, M/M, Minor Character Death, Mutual Pining, My First Fanfic, Non-Human Jaskier | Dandelion, Nonbinary Character, Not Beta Read, Not Canon Compliant, Past Child Abuse, Poisoning, Post-Episode: S01E06 Rare Species, Protective Eskel (The Witcher), Protective Jaskier | Dandelion, Soft Eskel (The Witcher), Soft Lambert (The Witcher), Stabbing, Tags Contain Spoilers, Weddings, deaged to 8 years old
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:49:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 30
Words: 70,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25729228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minutiae/pseuds/minutiae
Summary: Post mountain, Jaskier has been traveling alone. It hurt to walk away, but being blamed for everything that went wrong in someone else's life was one step too far. He'd been a traveling bard for over two decades, both with and without Geralt by his side. He didn't need the witcher, didn't need much else besides his lute.Destiny had other ideas, however. A chance meeting in a forest with a small, angry child gave them both a glimpse into a life they didn't think they'd ever have or want. But in adopting this feral kid, Jaskier finds himself irrevocably tied into a life he thought he'd left, with a family he didn't know he wanted.----(Porny bits are marked off with *** for those who prefer to skip)
Relationships: Aiden/Lambert (The Witcher), Eskel/Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion & Lambert
Series: The Viscount [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1884625
Comments: 883
Kudos: 789





	1. Quiet noises in the dark

Jaskier sat on his bedroll, staring at the fire and shivered. It was starting to get cold and he had a decision to make, one he’d been putting off as long as possible. Does he go home, or Oxenfurt for the winter? He prodded the fire with the stick he’d roasted the small rabbit on, digging the bones into the ashes further. Going back to Lettenhove guaranteed him a place to ride out the incoming winter. He much preferred Oxenfurt and the freedom it gave him. However, the past few months he had not notified the university of his intentions. There’s no guarantee there’d be classes organized for him to teach. It wasn’t a terrible gamble, he was famous enough that they’d likely hire him on, but it would paint him in a very unflattering light to just show up.    
  
Sighing, he looked up at the trees and leaned back on his hands. It’d mostly likely have to be Lettenhove. The prospect wasn’t thrilling. Probably shouldn’t complain, however. He’d done well enough that he’d managed to afford a stout grey mare. She was clearly getting on in years, but she was sturdy and minded a trail well enough he could pick at his lute while they walked.    
  
He looked at her, still contemplating a good name. Whatever it was, it wouldn’t be a fish. He startled to realize she wasn’t dozing, or foraging. Her ears were pricked, attention drawn into the woods. Standing, he wandered over to rub her neck, and mutter quietly, “What? Please tell me this isn’t your we’re-about-to-be-eaten face?”   
  
He stood still, straining his ears. A small noise made the horses ear twitch and she huffed and rocked her head, pulling on her tie. She clearly wanted to inspect, so he patted her nose and went into the brush. “If I die, this is your fault, horse!”   
  
He walked as quietly as he could, trying to follow the small noises. As he neared he realized they were pained and panting.    
  
“Hello?”   
  
Soon he could follow the smell, which was clearly someone in a very unpleasant state of distress. He found a small campsite by tripping over it, a heavy bag and what looked like a large sword sheath. He kicked it gently, hearing them shift inside.    
  
“Don’t fucking touch my stuff” a small voice groaned.    
  
“Oh hello! I’m sorry for intruding. I didn’t particularly mean to touch your belongings, I may have tripped over them. I’m camped not far away but you sounded like you may need some assistance. Where… are you?”   
  
“Go the fuck away or I’ll-” 

  
The voice was cut off by a truly horrendous bout of retching and groaning. Was that a child? No. Jaskier was days from the nearest town. He’d stayed in one for nearly two weeks, playing almost every night to build his purse and stock up on supplies as the season waned. The delay was meant to help him decide which way he’d head for winter, but he found himself still unable to make a choice even as he bought a horse and a warmer cloak. He figured he’d decide when he reached the Pontar, which they told him was a three day ride down this path.    
  
He sat down near the small bush.    
  
“Look. You clearly aren’t feeling well, but I do have some food and fresh water in my camp. Can I help you? I found some wild blackberries yesterday, I haven’t finished them. I’d be willing to share. I’m a bit worried about you in that bush, especially with no fire. It’s already cold and it’s only going to get worse tonight. Why not come warm up?”   
  
“What do you want for it?”    
  
He took a deep breath, steadying himself. That growl, the way he asked. A little too familiar. He crushed down old memories, knowing he needed to be very careful.    
  
“Nothing, really. I’m a traveling bard. Maybe you can tell me a story about how you came to be here, I can write a song about it! You’ve probably heard some of the other ones I’ve written. Though to be honest I’m getting rather sick of ‘Toss a Coin’”. He snorted. Toss a coin to your Witcher. More like toss your bard off a mountain.    
  
“I like that song.”   
  
Jaskier smiled. “If you come to my camp, I’ll sing it for you and we can chat.”   
  
A small face peered out from the bush, brows furrowed. Jaskier smiled warmly, but didn’t move, watching the child inspect him. He lifted his hands, and only his hard won practice as schooling his face kept him from showing distress at the child flinching back at the movement.    
  
“Look! Silly old bard here. Would you prefer to follow me there? And may I help you carry your things? That bag was awfully heavy when I tripped over it.” He smiled wanly, wiggling his foot out at the child. “I think I broke my foot on it!”    
  
He looked at the bag, and back at Jaskier, clearly weighing his options. “Yeah. You can. The bag. Leave the swords alone they are _mine_.” The tiny feral child bared his teeth.    
  
“No problem! I’m going to stand up now and go take it, I’ll start walking slowly, you follow when you’re ready ok? I won’t be quiet this time.”   
  
“You weren’t quiet the first time,” the child mumbled. Jaskier flinched at that, all too vividly reminded of how often Geralt had said the same thing.


	2. A few things come to light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tw: child is very afraid, very slight allusion to child abuse. nothing is detailed.

  
It took over an hour for the child to settle, creeping closer to Jaskier’s campsite. He stared at the horse for a while, and then again at Jaskier. The bard pretended not to watch the child as he dug in his saddlebag for a bowl, filling it halfway with blackberries and the last bit of the rabbit he’d cooked for his own dinner. He set the bowl down on the other side of the fire next to where he’d left the boy’s bag, and set about building the fire a little higher for his slight, shivering companion.    
  
“What do you want for the food.” The child looked at the bowl suspiciously, and crept closer.   
  
“I told you. You’re all alone, sounded a bit distressed and frankly, I’ve been traveling alone for a few months. I’m used to traveling with a friend, but. He went his own way and I am headed… well. Probably home, for the winter. Where are you off to?”   
  
Sitting on the ground and holding the bowl in his lap the child furrowed his brow. “I don’t know.”    
  
“Well. You’re welcome to travel with me for awhile,” he cringed as the fire crackled and the small branch tipped over, sending up sparks. “Clearly I’m not the best at making camp, but it’s good to travel with a companion. Especially in the woods.”    
  
They both looked at each other, the child opening his mouth only to be interrupted by a loud rumble of his stomach, and cringed in pain.    
  
Jaskier came to two very swift conclusions, and neither one made him very happy. “Look, I’m sorry. You’re right. I’m a stranger in the forest and just gave you food. Here, please give me a berry and a piece of the rabbit. You pick. And hand me the waterskin.” He slid around the side of the fire, reaching one hand out.    
  
The child did, careful to stretch as far as he could to stay as much out of range of Jaskier as he could, and simply tossed the skin on the ground.    
  
Jaskier ate both, took a drink from the skin, and tossed it back before resuming his place opposite. After watching him carefully, the child wolfed down the food, drinking deeply from the skin. It wasn’t long before the full belly had his eyes heavy lidded and droopy.    
  
“Do you have a blanket?” Jaskier asked quietly, only to realize the child wouldn’t want him fetching it from the bag anyway. He slowly unfolded his from his bedroll, and walked around the fire. The child dropped hard and fast, sleeping curled around and clinging to his heavy, lumpy bag. Jaskier covered him with the blanket, and sat up watching this sad, mysterious child for another half an hour before falling asleep himself. 

\----

After twenty two years of traveling with a witcher, Jaskier was not used to being the first one awake in the morning. He started a small pot of oats over the restarted fire and had eaten his fill before his small companion started to stir.    
  


“Good morning!” he said brightly, shrugging on his blue doublet and readjusting his boots, ensuring the small dagger he kept in the left one sat firm in its sheath. “I made breakfast, if you’re hungry. I figure if we get started soon, we’ll hit the river in time to hopefully stay in an inn on the other side before dark. The town I left had said to follow that path,” he waved in the directions of the small cart path he’d left last night.    
  
Clearly having decided that the bard hadn’t meant to poison him, he inhaled the oats and wrapped himself back up in the blanket to watch Jaskier. He blinked blearily, clearly still tired.    
  
“Do you mind me asking, how old are you? And what is your name? I am headed south for the winter, but I’m happy to help take you back to your family if-”   
  
At the word family the boy’s face turned ashen. “No.” His voice was small, and trembling. “You can’t, please don’t.”   
  
Jaskier stilled, eyes wide. He’d suspected, of course, not many other reasons for a child this small to be alone in the woods. “Of course, of course, my apologies. I promise. Nothing you don’t want. Do you know where you want to go, then?”    
  
“I’m eight.”   
  
Jaskier took a deep breath. Eight. There was little baby fat on his face, he was small and lean. The morning light made it far more obvious how malnourished the child was, and he was wearing clothes much, much too large for his small frame, no coat, and no shoes.    
  
“Okay. Well. Like I said, you’re welcome to travel with me. I think you need some supplies though. Do you have shoes?” The small face shuttered. Okay. Clothing for the child was a top priority, then. Two days behind him was a town, and at least one ahead before he hit a town.    
  
“Well. Thank you for sharing with me. I do not want to make you feel uncomfortable, but I do have questions. May I tie your bag onto my horse?” He reached for the bag, and even though the child nodded it took a moment before he was willing to relinquish it.    
  
“I’m sorry little one but I do need a name to call you.”    
  
The child watched him warily, as he tied the last of the belongings, motioning for him to mount the horse. “You can ride either with me, or I’ll walk beside, whatever you’re more comfortable with. But with no shoes on your feet, I’m sorry but good conscience doesn’t allow me to give you the option of walking yourself.”   
  
The child crept closer, allowing Jaskier to lift him onto the horse. He stared, brown eyes peering from under long, shaggy brown hair that hung in his eyes. He watched Jaskier patiently waiting with the reins in his hand.    
  
“You can. You can ride. We’ll go faster, right?” Jaskier nodded at his question.    
  
“Yes, she can go faster that way, but I am strong and used to walking. I have walked plenty, so I really don’t mind if you want to ride alone.”    
  
The child shook his head, and scooted slightly forward. Question answered, Jaskier tossed the reins over the mare’s head, shifted the lute on his back, and swung himself up behind.    
  
“And. My name is Lambert”. 


	3. a new song and dance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tw: child reminded of past abuse, no details. Beginnings of panic, talked down and reassured.

  
It was a long day of riding for Jaskier. He was used to plinking away composing a melody if the trail was good. He hummed a bit but found it hard to compose with his small passenger, who took quite a few hours to relax. It was clear he distrusted the bard’s arms around him. Around midday, Jaskier dug some dried meat out of his bag, long used to snacking on the way from the last few months traveling alone. The less you stopped, the less likely you were to be accosted by wildlife or brigands. 

After the quiet meal, however, his small passenger started nodding off. Eventually, Jaskier managed to lean him back, and he slept for nearly two hours as the bard hummed lullabies.    
  
Eventually, they reached the river, and as luck would have it, a small bridge.    
  
Lambert was constantly watching their surroundings, even leaning to peer down at the river as they crossed. As they approached the small town Jaskier had been told would be here, Lambert pressed himself back into Jaskier.    
  
“Shh. You’re alright. Help me look for the inn, alright? We’ll get a room.”    
  
In the months since he’d parted with his old friend so explosively, Jaskier had not failed to notice how much easier it was to get an inn without the large, forbidding presence beside him. He sometimes wondered if the witcher was doing okay, but picking at the shards of his heart was painful, so he did his best to ignore those thoughts.    
  
The inn was easy to find, thanks to the large stable attached. The tavern owner from his previous residence had assured him it was an easy trip, and they’d been right.    
  
He lifted Lambert down, and handed the boy the sword case and the lute, which were the lightest of their belongings. The bard didn’t need much as he traveled, but he was unsure if the small frame of the boy could manage his saddlebags. He wasn’t even sure how he handled the lumpy pack, easily twice as heavy as his bags. Swinging it over one shoulder and the saddlebags over the other, he patted the horse’s neck and smiled at the stable hand. “We’ll just need tonight. Please give her a good brushing, she’s been a darling good girl.” Paying the stablehand and turning to leave, he was startled when Lambert slipped his small hand into Jaskier’s as they walked into the inn itself.    
  
“Hello there!” He used his most charming smile on the innkeep, who ignored him to smile down at Lambert. The child hid behind Jaskier’s arm, peering distrustfully at the stranger.    
  
“Oh hello there little one! Traveling with your da? Are you needing a room?”   
  
Lambert nodded, then froze and glanced up at Jaskier, who smiled as warmly as he could while his heart broke a little more inside. “A bath too, kind madam if you would. We had a bit of a rough go in the woods! My little one more so, goodness.”    
  
She ignored Jaskier again, smiling at Lambert. “Shy one are ya? My Basian is a shy one too. Maybe your da will let you come down and play later, after you’re all cleaned up?”    
  
The room and bath were haggled for, with the innkeep “sneaking” Lambert a small honeycake while Jaskier dutifully pretended to be distracted counting out coins. He took their key and lead Lambert up to a small room at the back of the inn with a double bed.    
  
Lambert froze as Jaskier put the bags in a corner, not immediately noticing the boy’s terror.    
  
“Lambert, Lambert, breathe!” Jaskier rushed and knelt quickly beside the boy.   
  
“You promised you promised” the boy’s eyes were wide, but unfocused and the hyperventilating had him barely understandable. Jaskier suddenly understood and desperately wanted to murder someone.    
  
“Lambert. Breathe! I did not lie. I will not touch you. No one will touch you again. Not ever.”    
  
Large brown tear filled eyes turned to him, clearly hopeful. “Never.” Jaskier repeated. “Not while I breathe.”   
  
Lambert shuddered, and jumped when a knock at the door revealed a frankly enormous yet kind faced man. “Bath’s ready. We have a room downstairs, behind the kitchen.” He glanced at the child. “Morenna said kid’s free, she had me fill two tubs.”    
  
Jaskier nodded his thanks and tipped the man before he left. “Lambert, do you have any smaller clothes? Let’s get you into something less …” He waved his hand.    
  
Lambert cringed and shook his head. “No. These were all that. There’s no other clothes in there.”    
  
Jaskier wondered again what was in the pack, but with the recent fright he didn't want to push. “That’s alright. You can wear my spare outfit, there’s got to be a market here we can buy you something much better fitted.”   
  
However, Morenna clearly noticed the state of the boy’s attire and left a change of clothes in the washroom with a note for Jaskier, saying they were too small for her boy now, and clearly the child needed them more. Lambert was thankfully very self-sufficient when handed the soap, but refused to undress or wash until Jaskier pulled a privacy screen between the tubs. That was fair, but still worried Jaskier.    
  
After they were both washed, Jaskier washed their clothes in his own bathwater. He was dusty from the road, but nowhere near as filthy as the child had been. He was surprised at the sheer size of the clothes the boy had been drowning in. The shirt was slightly bigger than his own, and if he had to guess, would probably have fit Geralt. Don’t think about Geralt. The pants were only a few inches longer than his own, but from someone not nearly as narrow waisted as Jaskier. He could probably wear them, though he wasn’t typically fond of leather.    
  
Lambert just watched Jaskier, perched on the stool wearing his new clothes, fidgeting with a necklace Jaskier hadn’t noticed until now. “You hungry yet? I still do need to head into the market, if you want to come along. Maybe she’ll let me play, sometimes I can woo a free supper if the tavern is packed enough.” Jaskier chattered on mindlessly as he herded his now clean charge back to their room, hanging their damp clothes about to dry.    
  
He paused, at the door. Lambert was quiet, sitting on the bed, clearly not eager to leave. “I can go alone, if you like. That window looks out over the road, I think. You can watch for me to come back.”   
  
“I’ll stay. Guard the things. I don’t …”   
  
Jaskier nodded cheerily. “Alright. We have jobs! My job is to find you boots, here let me see your foot alright thank you and you, my little one, will think of the best story you can and I’ll see if I can turn it into a song just for you. We’ll call it Lambert’s song. I will be back in an hour at most, and we’ll go have dinner.”   
  


\---   
  
After a successful shopping trip that net him a pair of sturdy boots, cloak, and spare outfit for Lambert, Jaskier also managed to find a good price on a small puzzle ring set and a few bags of dried fruit, and nuts. He wasn’t sure how much a child Lambert’s size needed to eat, but more food wouldn’t go amiss, especially since he didn’t have to carry it himself anymore. It was a spur of the moment decision to pick up a small box of honey cakes. They were a frivolous expense by any account, but the delighted sparkle in the child’s eyes at the treat Morenna had given him was well worth the expense.    
  
He finished the day with a rousing performance with an appreciative audience, managed to get them free meals and some good tips. Not all days went as seamlessly, though Jaskier never had quite so many women flirting with him so brazenly after it was made clear he had been traveling with Lambert. 

The child sat quietly in a corner, eating an enormous bowl of stew. The innkeep had sent her son to play with Lambert, who looked terrified of the older and larger boy. Eventually the sweet child gave up and left Lambert in peace, looking disappointed. About an hour after, Lambert had fallen asleep with his head on the table, startling Jaskier into remembering he was traveling with a child who needed sleep. He played one last song, and carried the small boy to their room and tucked him under the blankets. He climbed on top of the blankets, and fell asleep himself, well pleased with a positive day.    
  
\---

The weeks went on, traveling steadily southeast. Jaskier did his best to travel with trade caravans, counting on safety in numbers. He made more of an effort to find safe and far off the road campsites when inns were scarce, doing his best to remember everything Geralt had ever told him he’d done wrong to ensure his small charge remained safe.    
  
He’d never traveled with so few incidents. Jaskier wondered idly if it had anything to do with his charge one night, as the boy slept curled up into Jaskier’s chest. For all Geralt railed against Destiny’s meddling fingers, they found themselves year after year, even without deliberately looking. And now, Jaskier had stumbled into this small boy in a forest half an hour off the trail and days from any town. 

After that first night at the inn where Lambert had managed to wrap himself around Jaskier in the middle of the night, the small boy curled up into Jaskier’s arms every night. He wasn’t sure if it was familiarity or fear that made Lambert cling to him. It melted any hesitation he’d had at his competence caring for a child. Jaskier fell more in love with the boy every day. He’d never before wanted a child, taking very careful measures with past lovers not to leave behind any bastards. A traveling bard wasn’t a life for a father, and yet. Here he was. He may not be this small boy’s biological father, but it was getting harder to imagine life without the boy keeping him company. It wasn’t until he arrived in Lettenhove that he remembered exactly why he’d always sworn off children. 

  
They’d fallen into a routine, working around each other as Jaskier learned more about the demands of children, and Lambert learned to trust his new caretaker. They always rode together, slept curled in the same bed, and any market or crowded room they found themselves in had Lambert’s small hand slipping inside the bard’s, or clutching the back of his doublet if Jaskier had his hands full. Soon Lambert became confident enough to sleep alone in their rented rooms while Jaskier played for coin. Jaskier would send the small boy to the market to fetch items, encouraging his independence while pacing in his room. The boy was small, but clever. He wasn’t sure if the boy was better at haggling, charming the vendors with the frankly unfair puppy eyes, or just light fingered. It was probably best not to ask for now. 


	4. This is my son

Lettenhove was a large estate, and beautiful. So near the sea the air was clear and salty, and the greenery stretched for miles. Jaskier led them across fields and through small trails, relaxed enough to sing old songs, silly songs, and made up on the spot songs that had Lambert bent double laughing. He was usually so quiet and reserved that Jaskier did his best to put a smile on the boy’s face as often as possible. Lambert clearly did not trust strange men, nearly vibrating with tension the few times Jaskier ran into aggression. Travel was much less exciting without the drama of falling into beds and out of windows, following on contracts and hiding behind trees. 

Lambert wasn’t much more talkative than his previous traveling companion and far more prone to emotional meltdown. However, there was a peaceful joy in his new life, even while a part of his heart mourned the twenty years he spent following heartbreak. His heart was full. He kissed the top of Lambert’s head, smiling at the questioning hum the child gave him. 

  
Jaskier knew going to the estate proper was not going to be ideal, for either one of them. So he headed towards a small cottage he knew of, outside of the town proper. It was built in a clearing near a small pond. It had been his mother’s favorite hideaway, only an hour’s ride from the estate. It was far enough away that they could escape the oppressive weight of danger, where he was allowed to relax instead of walking on eggshells. The walls were painted with memories of a happy childhood, covered with canvases and art. It was a rare escape, but the only place Jaskier considered home. It’d be tricky to try and avoid the grasping weight of his position, but Jaskier had never been Viscount and didn’t want to start now. 

The cottage was dusty, but the stable was still sound and the mare delighted in running and rolling in the sweet grass pasture. Lambert took to the small forested surroundings like the small feral child Jaskier thought he was when he first saw those bared teeth hissing at him from beneath a bush. While the weather turned colder, Lambert still could often be found high up in trees surrounding the cottage, stretching and peering far in the distance as if seeing around the curve of the earth would unfold secrets his mind didn’t have the questions to find the answers for.    
  
The town was well aware of Jaskier’s long history with the small cottage, and it was not hard to set up a delivery of supplies to last the winter. He ordered Lambert and himself warmer cloaks and gloves, and fur lined boots for them both once he learned that even the incoming winter chill was not keeping Lambert from exploring. Within the first two weeks alone, he brought home to Jaskier a sparkling black rock, a frog, an empty bird’s nest, and once, an impressively intact bird skull.    
  
Even as the snow fell, it was clear that the steadfast bard had calmed and soothed the fearful child. He no longer warily watched Jaskier, waiting to be scolded no matter how high he climbed or whether or not he missed lunch. The day he came back moaning with his face covered with berry juice the bard simply laughed until he cried. “Lambert how many pounds did you even eat?” Despite the gentle teasing, the bard rocked him through the cramps and discomfort. Lambert cried through the stomach upset, clearly more angry at the indignity than the actual indigestion. 

As winter set in, heavy and cold, Lambert relaxed more easily, allowing Jaskier to curl around him in Jaskier’s childhood bed. Carding fingers through long hair, the bard read books to the little one every night. Every morning, he woke to a small face peering over him, dragging him out of the large bed that was Jaskier’s mother’s. Mornings were for tea and music, and the cottage was rarely quiet. The more comfortable Lambert got, the more ridiculous his storytelling got, and Jaskier wrote more than one ballad of the knight Lambert dreamed up.    
  
The stories Lambert loved best were of a knight, captured and enlisted in service. They befriended a shy but ever so powerful dragon, railed against the king who kept him hostage, and the green eyed brigand the knight fell in love with and ran away to marry.    
  
One night, in the deepest winter, Lambert dragged out his old pack. “Jaskier. I don’t. Can you help me?”   
  
Jaskier sat beside the largest portion of his heart and opened the bag. Crumpled on top was mistreated leather armor, a smaller bag that when shoved aside clinked horrifyingly familiar to a bag he remembered so vividly from his time with Geralt. A single glove, five daggers, and finally, fished out from the bottom, Lambert handed Jaskier a familiar medallion. His hands trembled, and Jaskier looked at Lambert. “Why do you have these things? Do you know where they’re from?”   
  
Lambert shook his head. “I don’t know. I just remember waking up in the forest, I put all the stuff in the bags and running away. I remember… being taken from my dad. By a Witcher. Maybe this is his things? I can’t. I can’t remember what he looks like.”    
  
“Well Bertybertbert, I have told you of my travels! You know my old friend and all the mischief we got into. He had a medallion just like this one. Maybe if we’re lucky we can find him, and ask. I usually find him in springtime. But. If this is that Witcher’s gear, please promise me not to touch the potions. I have been warned very thoroughly how dangerous they are to humans.”    
  
Lambert scrunched his nose at the nickname, and peered in the smallest, and heaviest bag. “I’m pretty sure quite a few of these are bombs, though.”   
  
Jaskier’s face paled as he dragged the bag over and peered inside, nodded, and promptly carried the entire bag outside and left it in the tack room of the small stable. Geralt did not carry bombs often and Jaskier had absolutely no idea how stable they were, even though he’d traveled with them for weeks and the bag had lived for months under a chair in the cottage, mostly forgotten. 

“Well. It looks like we need some distraction. Do you want to learn my favorite thing about winter?” After rummaging through three different chests while Lambert watched quietly, Jaskier pulled out two sets of skates and waved them at the young boy. “Have you ever gone ice skating?”

Skating became a daily form of exercise, Jaskier smoothly gliding around, turning and spinning in long graceful loops, while Lambert discovered if he went fast enough he could spin AND jump. There were plenty of bruises from the endeavor and Lambert slept soundly every night. 

It wasn’t until the ice cracked that Jaskier packed the skates away, much to the chagrin of Lambert. “I’m sorry, little one. Once the melt starts it’s not safe. But I was thinking, it’s been quite awhile! Do you know when your birthday is?”    
  
Lambert went quiet. “I don’t know.”    
  
Jaskier internally kicked himself. He’d learned enough about his young charge to know his early childhood was not healthy or safe, he should have known better than to ask. “Well, little one. Mine is coming up soon. How about we share? We can go into town and get a cake and perhaps a present or two once the snow melts enough that Pegasus can manage the ride?”   
  
It was not two weeks later that a warm spell hit long enough to make the ride to town manageable. They bundled up together, Jaskier wrapping his warm cloak around both of them as they plodded down the path, empty saddlebags tied on behind him. He left the lute behind, but ended up lashing the sword pouch to the side of the saddle. It was a well traveled path, but it was still winter and Jaskier did not want to risk being caught unarmed if wolves found them on the way.    
  
The town was quiet, even with the relatively warm day, and Jaskier delighted in bringing Lambert from shop to shop. The months of care had gone far into making the child confident enough to not hide behind Jaskier in every shop anymore, and the townfolk were delighted that the Viscount brought his son. They purchased a stash of small cakes and pastries, tucking the boxes into the saddle bags while continuing onward. A few new storybooks were purchased, and soon gossip in town spread and everyone was coming out to welcome the new heir. Soon Lambert was being greeted with bows, and even children were carried out to wave at the pair.    
  
“Lambert, the bakery owner said there’s been a mage living in town for the last few months. I’d like to ask if they could help with your memory loss. Is that alright?” Jaskier murmured into Lambert’s head, disguised in an affectionate hug. Lambert thought, and nodded, receiving a squeeze in response. 

  
Fetching Pegasus, they filled the saddlebags with their purchases and headed out to the house at the edge of town, said to be the home of a visiting mage. It wasn’t a long ride, and clearly gossip traveled quickly as a tall, redheaded man in a clearly expensively tailored outfit stood in the doorway watching them ride up. This wasn’t the mage he’d been told about, but there was never any telling. Jaskier learned the hard way mages rarely keep council with anyone but themselves and their words can be sharper than a witcher’s steel when annoyed.    
  
“Hello there! Are you the mage of this fine establishment? I have a small question, I was hoping you could help us with a trifling matter.”   
  
“Lord Julian, it’s good of you to visit the town. I’d only just heard you decided to winter in Lettenhove this year.” The smooth voice carried across the yard and as Jaskier helped Lambert down from Pegasus, he couldn’t help but notice the boy tense and tremble at the sound of the mages’ voice. “Who is this young lord with you?”   
  
“Ah see, that is where I would like your assistance. This is my son. We’ve had a bit of an issue last autumn where he lost a good portion of his memory and I was rather hoping you could help us out.” He slipped his left hand into Lambert’s right as they stood in front of the mage, unsure of the stranger’s trustworthiness.   
  
The mage glided closer, looming over the young boy who was rigid and glaring at the stranger. “And what, pray tell, is your name young man?”   
  
Gritting his teeth and glaring at the mage he ground out “Lambert. Lambert Pankratz.”   
  
Jaskier’s heart momentarily stopped. Lambert had never used that name, or claimed Jaskier as a parent. They’d settled into the roles after the third tavern owner assumed as such. It made traveling together easier- bards had a notorious reputation for their varied sexual adventures and it wasn’t unrealistic that such a popular one may have a bastard. In his momentary brain reset he did not react quickly enough and the mage had their hand around Lambert’s arm in a flash, Lambert’s eyes glazed in pain as the mage did something Jaskier was certain did not qualify as helping in even the loosest frame of the word.    
  
“So it is you, little pup. Pankratz, hm? My colleague bragged about this, but it’s truly a work of art, no memory at all? Look at your eyes!” As the mage wrenched Lambert’s face up to look into his eyes he did not see the incoming punch that broke his nose and rocked his head back.    
  
“Ow fuck how is your face that HARD? Let him go, oh ho ho you do not want to do this here I have had quite enough with mages interfering in my personal affairs!” Jaskier could practically hear Geralt screaming at him what an idiot he was, but he was still trying to pull the aggressive man’s hand off of Lambert’s face.    
  
Lambert slumped slightly as the mage’s concentration shifted off of him, blinking rapidly and he could feel the prickle of power seeping off the mage and in one smooth, shocking motion pulled the dagger that lived in Jaskier’s left boot, and shoved it firmly in the mage’s stomach angled up under the ribcage. The mage's eyes widened, and he coughed wetly twice before collapsing on the ground. As soon as he was free, Lambert turned and bolted back into town, leaving a stunned Jaskier behind. 


	5. Planning for Spring

Eskel and Geralt stood quietly on the outer wall of Kaer Morhen, watching heavy snow drift down on the mountain, slowly burying the keep. The crumbling keep was silent in the grey morning as the two men watched the pass close. This was going to be a hard, quiet winter.

There were all on edge, as usually Geralt is the last to arrive before the pass closes. Lambert should have arrived at the latest two weeks ago. He hated the keep, hated the Path, and hated being a witcher. But most importantly, he hated climbing the trail up the mountain once the ground started to freeze and the path was even more dangerous for the ice. As far back as they could remember, Lambert had never liked the cold. 

There was no letter, no raven. No message from a mage, no messenger. Not a single word from him that he’d found another place to winter. They’d checked and double checked the surrounding villages and towns up to two day’s ride, just to be sure. No one had seen or heard of him since last spring. 

Eventually, Vesemir climbed his way up to the top of the wall and stood next to the only two wolf witchers he knew were safe. He couldn’t write off the youngest yet, the Path was unpredictable. He clapped each one on the shoulder, and shook them slightly.    
  
“Let’s go. You need food, and standing here staring won’t make the snow melt faster.”   
  
They trudged down, and for a long time, the keep was quiet. The deep snow muffled any sounds in the valley making it seem as if the whole world was holding its breath. Where was Lambert?    
  
Vesemir trained them harder than ever, but neither had the heart to complain. No answers could be had until spring, and even then, they would have to search him out. Instead of taking turns hunting for fresh meat as they often did, Geralt and Eskel went out together, every time. It was the unspoken weight in the room, even as Vesemir joined them in patching the walls, and brewing extra potions for springtime. They broke into Lambert’s moonshine, but even that didn’t lighten the somber mood. 

It was yet another night with Geralt pacing the walls that Vesemir joined him, wearing that ridiculous hat Lambert hated so much. Geralt couldn’t help but snort, drawing a small smirk out of his mentor. “Talk, pup. Eskel’s worried, but I haven’t seen you pace like a caged beast in years. It’s more than worry about Lambert.”    
  
Geralt tipped his head back, scrubbing his hands over his face. “I’m just a fucking moron, alright.”    
  
“No shit, pup. I didn’t ask if you did something, I asked what you did. Do you know something we don’t?”   
  
“No, not so much. You know that damn bard, I just. Fuck.”   
  
“You fucked the bard.”   
  
Geralt leveled an unimpressed look at the old man, who was solidly unmoved. Not much rattled his boys, and even less rattled him. “No. I told him to fuck off, though.”   
  
“This is a problem?”   
  
“Fuck, Vesemir I didn’t mean it. Yenn, and Borsch, it was a clusterfuck. I said stupid shit, I was mad, and then. I couldn’t find him anywhere. It was like he disappeared.”   
  
“So, you bit his head off, he went to ground. Seems fairly natural. It’s not like he can just beat the shit out of you like your brothers do when you start getting snippy at them.”   
  
“Vesemir. He is loud. He leaves a trail everywhere he goes, and I meant to ask him to come here for the winter. To. you know. Apologize.”   
  
“When did you lose track of him?”   
  
“It took too long to realize I was fucking stupid before I even started looking, Vesemir. I missed him. Then I couldn’t find him.”   
  
“Well. Looks like come spring, you’ll have to search for both. You said that boy likes Redania. You search there. Eskel can search Temeria. I’ll start in Kaedwen.”   
  
Geralt looked out over the wall, knowing how worried Vesemir was if he was willing to leave the keep unattended for so long. They had a lot to do come spring, and they only had another month to go.    


  
Only a week after the wonderful and fabulous heart to heart with the old man that Eskel cornered him in the armory. Great. More feelings talk, in a keep full of stressed and sad witchers. Let's think more about death in the place where so many of us died. 

“I thought you were fucking that witch.”   
  
“Yennefer." Well. This was not the direction he thought Eskel would go in.    
  
“Whatever. Why are you mooning about the bard, then?”   
  
“Look, it’s. Yennefer is perfectly capable of finding me when she wants. I left the damn bard on top of a mountain. Well, he left me, I guess. I yelled, he left, and from there I have no idea where he went. He could trip and fall into trouble in a nunnery, Eskel. Actually I’m pretty sure he has. He bats those big blue eyes and smiles, and you just know he's getting up to something stupid. I said stupid shit, and when I went to apologize I couldn’t. I’m worried. That bouncing blithering idiot prances about from town to town wearing the most ridiculous colors, singing the most bawdy songs. He won’t even ride a horse.” 

Eskel watched his brother angrily sharpen a blade, beating himself up. “Well. You’ve said you’ve left him in courts before, he’s wandered off to competitions. He can’t be totally inept on the road. I’ll keep an eye out for him while we’re searching for Lambert, aye? Foppish, lute, blue eyes, bright clothes. Beware the smile, Toss a coin, no horse.” He ticked the points off on his fingers and he could see the tension slake off his brother’s shoulders. “We’ll find them both. Come on, let’s go. The one good thing about Lambert wintering elsewhere is no one is jacking off in the hot springs just to terrorize Vesemir with the stink for days. I finished the east outer wall yesterday, I could use a soak.” Eskel forcibly shoved his brother out, leaving the armory in disarray. Vesemir would have words with them later, but Geralt finally had the hint of a smile and that was far more important. 


	6. A big question is asked

Jaskier shook off the shock, probably not nearly as quickly as he should have. Running his hands through his hair, he took a deep breath. Well. Damage control time. He yanked the dagger out of the mage, wiping it clean on the mage’s robes before sliding it back into his boot. He hefted the body back inside the house, kicking it firmly away from the door while he shut it. That will be resolved later. Right now, he had a scared child to find.    
  
He mounted Pegasus and squeezed the horse into a canter, headed back to the inn. The streets were quiet again, with the novelty of the visit worn thin by the chill in the air. Still, a small boy waved him down from the step of the inn, and bolted inside.    
  
“Lord Julian!” The innkeep waved Jaskier to a stop, grabbing the reins. “Why don’t you stay for lunch, my lord, it’s a chilly day out. Iwek told us it’s your young lord’s birthday, please allow us to treat him.” The innkeep was carefully pointing at the stable, and held up three fingers, then pointed up. “Please go ahead and tend your horse, we’ll see you inside shortly!” He released the reins and turned to go inside as Jaskier dismounted. 

“Thank you, Jaromir”, Jaskier said quietly, catching the man’s eye as he shut the door behind him.    
  
Leading Pegasus into the small stable in the second stall, he removed her tack and began brushing her down. He took his time, until eventually he heard movement. “Lambert, please come down.”    
  
“No.” The voice was small, and still shaky, and clearly still up in the rafters. 

“Do you want me to come up there? It’s been awhile, I’m not 18 anymore. But I might be able to climb up there if you prefer it.” The disbelieving scoff was frankly, a little insulting. He was 40, not 400. Ugh. He tossed the brush back on the shelf and walked into the third stall. “Lambert, please? Frankly, I could use a hug right now. That pompous whoreson put his hands on you, and that really scared me. Please come down and let me fuss over you and make sure you’re okay.”    
  
“I don’t want to go inside.”   
  
“Oh, sweet thing. He just didn’t want you to run away before I could talk to you. You are so clever and brave finding a good safe spot to hide, but Jaromir has been the innkeep here since I was a young boy. He is not expecting us to come inside, but if you did, he would feed you just as he promised.”   
  
“Are you going to send me away?” Lambert’s small voice was closer now, but still fearful.    
  
“Oh my heart. I did not lie. You are my son now, and you hold my heart. Come down, my love, my little one. Let me know you are okay.” Lambert slid slowly down the side beam of the rafter, landing lightly on his feet, but stayed looking down, hiding his face behind his long hair. Jaskier ran his hands gently up and down his arms, waiting for Lambert to be ready for the affection he was desperate to give. It didn’t take long before the sobbing started and he pressed his small body against Jaskier’s.    
  
Time meant nothing, as they rocked and cried together and eventually, Jaskier tilted his head up, brushing the tears off the small face, frowning at the bruising on Lambert’s chin. “I think we have some bruise cream at home. Do you want to ride home, or do you want to spend the night here? I think it’d be best if we left Pegasus be for the night, and have our little birthday celebration here tonight.”   
  
It didn’t take long to fetch the saddlebags, pay for the room and baths for them both. Jaskier ruffled his long, dark wavy hair when the boy made a face at the suggestion of a bath, but when Jaromir promised roast venison delivered to their room with an extra roll for children who don’t complain over baths, Lambert begrudgingly relented. His hair was down past his chin, and was an effective screen when avoiding eye contact.    
  
After everyone was washed, and Lambert’s bloodied shirt washed and hung to dry near the room’s fireplace, Jaskier dug through the saddlebags. He spread the stack of books in front of the boy, placing a small carved wolf on one book, a dragon on the next, and a small human on the third. The boy giggled delightedly. “From my songs? The dragon, the wolf and the brigand?” He inspected each of the books next. A fairytale collection, a bestiary of forest creatures, and a blank journal. “What should I write?” His voice may have been only a whisper, but his eyes were wide and his fingers traced over the leather cover.    
  
“Whatever you want, little one. That’s why it’s yours. And I won’t ever read it, unless you give it to me and ask me to.”    
  
He stared up at Jaskier, tackling him into a laughing hug before they cleared away the gifts to feast on pastries and cover the bed in crumbs. That night, they fell asleep curled up together, with the fairytale book splayed across them, where Jaskier had fallen asleep reading aloud by the dimming firelight. 

The pounding on the door the next morning startled them both out of bed so fast the books and little wooden carvings went flying.    
  
“What in Melitele’s soggy left tit do you think you are doing in my inn, get, get out, I see the letter, go away. This is MY INN and people are still asleep you bumbling oaf get out, go. No. You tell that plucked peacock he’ll get his response when he gets it. Get out!”   
  
Lambert and Jaskier giggled quietly at the innkeeper’s rant, punctuated by what sounded like Jaromir beating the intruder with the towel that was always over his left shoulder. The stomping left, and a letter was slipped under the door before the innkeep’s much quieter steps receded.   
  
The black seal on the parchment stared balefully up from the floor, making Jaskier sag. “Ah, hell. Sorry kid. Looks like we’ll have to go be polite and proper soon.” Breaking the seal, he confirmed his suspicions and the date they were expected - they had one week. He glanced up at Lambert whose face made it clear that idea was only marginally better than stepping in cat sick. “Yeah. I agree. Looks like clothes shopping though!” Clapping delightedly, he ushered the boy into gathering their belongings for a quick breakfast and visit to the tailor.    
  
Jaskier always did enjoy well tailored and beautiful clothing, relying on a certain public perception to increase his income. A young, pretty, lithe bard earned far more than a broad, hairy, forty year old with a son did. Ah well. That’s what tailors and good moisturizer are for!    
  
Lambert had never been measured for clothing before, and flinched away from the measuring tape until Jaskier guided him to a seat and took his turn first instead. “We’ll need an outfit each for dinner at the estate, please. Complimentary, of course. Also perhaps another shirt and pants set for my little one here, he’s growing so tall. Did you know he is 9 today? He’ll need something properly dashing, I think. Not overly ostentatious, and plenty of room to move. Young boys, with all their energy!” He smiled down at the young tailor’s pretty green eyes and perfectly braided brown hair. “Lambert, do you think you are ready to be measured now?” One sharp nod, and the quiet boy watched suspiciously as the tailor marked down the same measurements.    
  
The back wall was a large shelf of fabrics, and as the tailor pulled down a handful of large rolls, pairing and chattering away. Lambert would be in a rich red, with deep gold detailing, and Jaskier chose a deep blue, nearly black, with identical detailing. They’d be finished in three day’s time, and Jaskier happily paid in advance for the finery, also ordering another set of traveling clothes for spring in the same colors, but a far more sturdy fabric simply because he was so delighted with the rich red against Lambert’s warmer skin tone and long dark hair.    
  
The following morning, Lambert peered at Jaskier as he had every morning, and prodded him gently awake. “You promised to teach me about manners today. You said I need practice.”    
  
Jaskier groaned. It’s true. Only three days and they needed to present as a united pair, regardless of the question that had been bothering Jaskier since yesterday.   
  
“Lambert,” he said, tugging the child onto the bed and hugging him gently, rubbing his bearded chin on top of the boy’s head until he giggled. “Lambert, I need you to think carefully today, and answer me when you’re ready. If you say, you for sure, 100% want to be legally my son, to be Lambert Pankratz, I can have the documentation at this dinner we are practicing for. It will be legal, and no one will be able to deny you the name, or your place here. It will be your name, forever. No matter what you choose, you are my son in my heart, and I will love you without reserve. Yes or no, this will not change our lives until and unless you want it to.”   
  
Lambert nodded, still not facing Jaskier. “I’ll think.”    
  
With one last squeeze, they headed to the kitchen to scrounge breakface and begin Lambert’s crash course in polite society. They started with posture, and table manners. Jaskier practiced sitting beside him, and they talked about the fox den Lambert found in the forest, and the pretty silver fish in the pond that Lambert couldn’t wait to catch again once the ice finished melting. By lunchtime, Lambert was bored, and Jaskier released him to run off his boredom in the woods. 

Hours later, Lambert came back disheveled but his eyes were brighter. He stood in front of Jaskier. “Legal means they can’t take me away from you, right?” Jaskier nodded, only for Lambert to hum and go off to his room. The boy was clearly thinking hard about this. Jaskier desperately wanted him to say yes, but he wanted Lambert to want him, not just an escape from his previous life. It was selfish, but Jaskier had never denied being a selfish man.    
  
It wasn’t until lunch time the next day, amid practicing table manners while eating that Lambert finally made his declaration. “Do it.”   
  
Jaskier, of course, had been a bit more focused on the ridiculous requirements of buttering your bread, and took a moment to catch up. “Are you-”   
  
The glare Lambert leveled at him made him pause. “You call me your son to strangers. They call you my father. You take care of me, and I take care of you. I don’t want to go anywhere else, and I don’t want a fancy title. I want to ride Pegasus and throw snowballs and climb trees and not be afraid anymore. I don’t want to be scared Lambert. I want to be strong Lambert. If the papers keep us safe, lets do the papers.”    
  
Jaskier swallowed the tears in his eyes, kissed Lambert on the forehead, and rested his head on Lambert’s. “Alright little one. Paperwork it’ll be.”    
  
The next day Lambert practiced his posture and mealtime manners during their trip into town, while Jaskier picked up their new clothes, as well as restocking their saddlebags surreptitiously with jerky, dried nuts, dried fruit, and a handful of supplies he’d been planning for awhile. He was very suspicious of the timing of this invitation, and his habit of keeping his bags ready to run had yet to fail him.    
  
The next day was the last one Jaskier was sure they’d have, and he warned Lambert of that. “Go run your nerves off in the forest. See everything you can, I am not sure if we’ll come back tomorrow. The snow’s melted enough that we could head out on the road if my cousin is as unpleasant as I worry he’ll be.” He handed Lambert a small package of lunch, to which Lambert clamped a hug tight around Jaskier’s middle, and dashed out the door. Jaskier spent the day cleaning the cottage, and reorganized the saddlebags.

He dithered over the potion case, but in the end decided he could not risk leaving it behind for Ferrant or another mage to get ahold of. The single glove, and random other items from the pack were left in a crate, and months ago he’d oiled and hung the armor in a corner. It was folded carefully and tucked in the saddle bag, beneath the single bedroll and rolled up woolen blanket. One side pouch was mostly taken up by the potions, with the two pairs of traveling clothes for both of them taking up the rest. The daggers were distributed among the bags, with the largest one tucked inside the armor. The other side he filled with all the rations, his song book, and Lambert’s journal. Lambert had a little room for anything extra he wanted to bring. The bags were set by the front door, with the mysterious witcher swords in a new leather longbow bag he’d purchased in an effort to disguise them.    
  
Jaskier filled the bathtub, taking time to wash with his nicest scents, rinsing his hair out he considered cutting it. It was nowhere near as long as Lambert’s, but his fringe hung well past his nose, and the back touched his collar. He decided to leave it long, but trimmed the back and sides to look tidy and put together. He trimmed his beard, shaving his neck and shaping his beard into less of a lazy winter growth and more of an actual style. With one last rinse, he dumped the bucket in the yard and refilled it, knowing Lambert would need it, and put a pot of water on to heat so Lambert wouldn’t have to take a cold bath. He laid out their clothing for tomorrow’s visit, and cleaned up his sturdy boots in order to fit them in the saddlebags. He’d clean up Lambert’s when he got back. 

  
It took long enough that the sun was setting, and the heavy stew Jaskier had put on while sorting supplies was nearly done. He stood at the door, unsure when he’d have the same feeling of permanence, standing still at home, waiting for the flight of his wild pup to come barreling home. It didn’t take long, he heard a wild cackle, only to see Lambert crash through the trees carrying what appeared to be a fistful of honeycomb, waving it above his head.    
  
“Jaskier! Look what I found!”    
  
The feral child barreling through the brush, face and hands covered in sticky honey and dirt. His long hair wild with sticks and leaves, pant legs rolled and sleeves shoved up. What appeared to be a smear of mud under his left eye and across his nose, and mud up to hs knees. Jaskier could only laugh. Master bard, the white wolf’s barker, Master of all seven liberal art of Oxenfurt, standing barefoot in the grass waiting to be tackled by a child that could easily be mistaken for a fae creature. Even in the fanciest hall, wearing the finest silks, even when Geralt had given him that smile the day he’d stitched his wounds the first time. Even before the pain of the mountain, the freedom he felt standing and looking out over what he thought was destiny, he’d never felt so complete. He caught Lambert, swinging him around. “Feral child! I made stew, and you made a mess! Let’s bathe you before dinner, the stew will hold. Whatever have you found?” Lambert dropped the chunk of honeycomb in a bowl held out by Jaskier, while stripping in the doorway and bouncing impatiently by the bath as Jaskier poured in the hot water.    
  
He never stopped chattering about all of his favorite places, and Jaskier trimmed his hair only the barest amounts to keep his favored length but tidying it into an actual style. Afterwards, Jaskier washed his hair. He used his best shampoo, rinsing the oil out carefully and handing the boy the soap and a cloth to scrub. He spent the last of the time packing away the soaps and cleaning Lambert’s muddy boots, leaving them by the fire to dry. The clothes were a disaster, but they were quickly washed out anyway as Lambert shuffled into one of Jaskier’s old shirts he liked to sleep in. It reached his knees, and made the boy look smaller and slighter than he was. The clothes he’d been wearing would likely be outgrown by the time they came back here, so may as well bring them.    
  


Dinner was a quick and quiet affair. Lambert brought out his three little figures, the sparkly rock he’d found in Autumn, and the bestiary Jaskier had bought him. “We can get more story books again, right? We’ve read all the good ones here.”    
  
Jaskier smiled and nodded. Maybe next winter they could spend in Oxenfurt instead. Lambert would likely get just as lost in the library there, given his insatiable curiosity. But that was a daydream for another time. Now, it was bedtime, because tomorrow was going to be a battle. 


	7. A Toast to the Viscount

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bit o sexiness, marked off by *******

Jaskier woke up, like always, to Lambert’s face. However this time, the small face wasn’t peering down at him, but curled up on the bed beside him. He attempted to slide out of bed to start breakfast but small eyes blinked open.   
  
“Morning my little badger. Couldn’t sleep?” Lambert just blinked quietly and burrowed further into the mattress before kicking his feet lazily. “Ah, I see. I’m going to cook up the last of the eggs, alright?”   
  
An hour later Jaskier was sat cross legged in the open door, bundled in blankets with Lambert in his lap. They stared at the pond and forest clearing that had been their home for the past months. The day was clear and crisp. The still icy pond glittered, and the quiet call of newly returned songbirds were driving away remnants of the winter. Soon, the stillness left Lambert wiggling out of the cocoon.   
  
“Hey hey wait up don’t you run off youngling. Let’s do up your hair for today. Remember, today’s a long day and if you suffer through your best you can pick one of those daggers from the saddlebags to carry in your boot. Emergencies only, mind, and I’ll have to find someone to properly train you. But! Hair. Braided? Pulled all the way back?” Jaskier mooshed his hands on his face, stretching Lambert’s eyes comically and making him laugh. Jaskier fussed over his hair, pulling it all up in a neat bun. The hair swept back left him with a notable widow’s peak, opening up his bright eyes and sharp nose. Even so young, his features were striking. They eventually settled on a low ponytail, that left him sparse but long fringe, as he was still in the habit of hiding his eyes behind his hair.   
  
Jaskier dressed first, fussing with his hair until he was happy with the way the long fringe swept to the side. He was never a small man, or the slender and slim silhouette his usual fashion made him look. He was tall, with strong thighs from decades of walking, with broad shoulders. His arms were always strong, whipcord from a lifetime of playing music, often for hours on end. The winter of chopping wood only enhanced this. 

His new clothing from the tailor in town was perfect. He needed less of the harmless twink image now, as he was no longer the protected, but the protector. His doublet only accented his broad shoulders and slim waist. The trousers were cut to showcase his long legs and flatter the curve of his ass. The tall boots hid his dagger, and the deep blue and gold set off the bright blue of his eyes. He looked nearly regal, and certainly befitting his title of Viscount.   
  


Lambert had rummaged through the bags while Jaskier had been fussing over his apparel, stuffing his now dry boots and last bits of clothing into the bags. Dressing the boy was easy, as he stood passively, allowing Jaskier to fuss and tug his shirt and doublet until he looked perfect. He was still small for his age, but an early childhood of malnourishment stripped him early of any baby fat. The trousers were a little long and loose, giving the impression of a more sturdy build. The doublet was cut and embellished identically to Jaskier’s, encouraging the claim of belonging between them. The crimson made Lambert’s warm skin glow, and the gold brought out flecks of amber in those deep brown eyes. The smallest dagger, which Lambert had pilfered from the bags, was tucked into his left boot. This left them matching down to the last detail.   
  


It was a quick ride into town, and they left Pegasus again at the inn. Jaromir was happy to keep their luggage in a small shed behind the inn, promising Jaskier no one would disturb their belongings. Horse tack is expensive to replace, but the allure of unattended saddlebags and weaponry was often too much a temptation.   
  
Lambert took great joy in leaping about, avoiding the worst of the slush and mud as they wandered through town. Jaskier had an old friend who returned from Oxenfurt years before he attended. He regaled a young Lord Julian with tales of the university, his experience studying the law, and the freedom of a young student so far from home. They’d been inseparable, indulging in the joys of youth together. Jaskier had stopped in and requested the paperwork during Lambert’s birthday shopping, much to the delight of his friend.   
  
“Natan!!” Jaskier sang out, distracting Lambert from coaxing an old grouchy grey tabby cat closer.   
  
The door to the nearest house was flung open, and the entire door frame was filled with smiling man. “Julek!” The two crashed into a hug, Jaskier clinging to the taller, broader man with a smile. His size could have made him an intimidating figure, but a wide grin and soft eyes made it clear this man was no danger. He was barefoot, in trousers and an unlaced chemise showed a broad expanse of chest hair. Lambert watched a little surprised as he caught Jaskier’s face and kissed him soundly on the mouth, a lighthearted smack of lips that had them both laughing.   
  
“Julek it’s been too long! Come inside, I haven’t yet met your young lad the town is so besotted with!” The kitchen was warm, and tea and pastries covered the table.   
  
“Little one, come in, sit, this is Natanel Wysocki. He’s an old friend, and he is who did all the paperwork for us.” Jaskier smiled softly at the man serving them tea. Natanel took every opportunity to touch Jaskier softly, a hand at his back as he walked past, a brush of the fingers as he handed him a cup. Lambert had never seen Jaskier as tactile with anyone aside from him. He wasn’t sure if he should be jealous of Jaskier’s divided attention, but he’d never seen that look on Jaskier’s face. 

“Lambert, Julek told me you can read. Would you like to read the paperwork? I don’t need your signature on anything, but as it concerns you I’d be happy to answer any questions you have.” He slid a set of papers across the table, official and expensive looking, one with a seal in the bottom corner. Lambert delicately pulled them closer and set about reading before glancing up. It was a little embarrassing that the tiny writing and flowery language had him sounding out words in just the first sentences. He was also a little grossed out by the two men touching fingers and he did not want to see any more kissing.   
  
“Can I… read them by myself?”   
  
Jaskier smirked at Lambert, knowing full well Lambert was not as sneaky as he thought he was. “Nati, come. Show me your office and leave my little bird to read.”

**********************

  
The door to the office was hardly shut before Natanel pressed Jaskier against it. He was so tall and broad, he surrounded the bard completely. His large hands started at his waist, sliding up the bard’s body before cradling his face gently. His eyes searched Jaskier’s face. The bard’s heart was rabbit fast, but it took only a moment before he gripped the front of Natanel’s shirt, pulling him into a heated kiss.   
  
It wasn’t the fumbles of strangers, but the old familiarity of a past love. Natanel knew Jaskier’s mouth from a lifetime ago, but time and experience left them breathing hard and gasping, hands wandering. Natanel pressed his large hand firmly against the bard’s length, panting into his neck, rutting desperately against his thigh. “Julek” he whispered brokenly, and came with a shudder.   
  
The sound of his knees hitting the floor made Jaskier gasp. One hand went automatically into the short blond curls, the other pressed flat against the door. He held his breath as large hands delicately plucked at his trousers, eyes pleading. He nodded, and within moments his old flame ran his tongue down his length, burying his nose into dark pubic hair. “Nati-” Jaskier moaned softly, then shoved a fist in his mouth, trying to stay quiet as he kept the other hand buried in Natanel’s curls, encouraging and guiding. He was undone, wanting nothing more than to drop his head back and let go, but it’d been so long. He’d loved Nati so many years ago, but they both knew Jaskier could never be held to the town long term. So they’d loved each other and let go, but as Natanel slid his hands up and down the bard’s thighs as his mouth and tongue worked it was clear that had Jaskier wanted to stay now the years apart and traveling would not have been a problem. Natanel groaned, dragging nails down Jaskier’s thighs, and the resulting grip in his hair had him grip Jaskier’s ass, burying his nose against skin, swallowing the length completely, and the flutter of his throat against the head of his cock had Jaskier spilling down his throat immediately. Wry laughter from them both as Natanel leaned his head against Jaskier’s stomach. “This wasn’t exactly my intention, Julek but you make me weak.”   
  


**************

He pulled the shirt up and off his enormous chest, using the soft material to gently clean his lover and tuck him back in his pants before gingerly climbing to his feet to clean the mess he left in his own pants. “Julek, you know I’d do anything for you, but I need to ask so I can prepare. The child-”  
  
Jaskier shook his head, running his hands over the thick hairy chest before him. “No, Nati. I wouldn’t have asked if there was danger for you. He’s alone. There’s a portion of his memories missing, but he does remember being relinquished. There’s no one else to claim him. He’s mine.”   
  
Natanel nodded. “I wrote him as your bastard, Julek. Given to you after his mother’s demise. I threw a dart at a map, and wrote him born in Kaedwen. Even if it’s questioned, it’ll be frustrating enough to try and prove wrong no one should bother. The other paperwork was easier, and is only waiting for your signature. If you’re sure.”   
  
Jaskier’s eyes welled with tears as he kissed his old friend once more, pouring all his gratitude into it. It was another 10 minutes before clattering from the kitchen told them Lambert was ready. Natanel slipped into his room to fetch a clean shirt and doublet before they returned to the boy.   
  
Signing of the papers was quick, and Jaskier tucked one set in a small pocket on the inside of his doublet. Natanel took another, tucked in a similar pocket. A lighthearted lunch later, Jaskier and Lambert were on their way. The next stop was a horse breeder, who Natanel recommended. Pegasus was a good horse, but was bought by Jaskier who just wanted not to be alone for a while. She was calm and gentle, but Jaskier was hoping to find something sturdier, and faster. Pegasus was a good girl, but Lambert was getting bigger, and still had no interest in riding alone, even if they could afford the expense of a second horse.   
  
With the letter from Natanel, Jaskier and Lambert ended up choosing a curious black mare with white socks, assured by the breeder of her patience, intelligence, and strength. She wasn’t suited for pulling a plow, but as she lipped at Lambert’s fingers Jaskier knew no matter her faults it’d break his heart to leave her behind. She was taken to the inn, and they tested all of Pegasus’s tack on her, swapping out for a larger cinch, and adjusting the bridle to fit the new mare. Pegasus followed the breeder willingly, after Lambert exacted a promise to find a good home for her where she’d be loved. 

  
However, after a busy day it was time for the dinner, so they loaded up the new mare with their belongings. They bid goodbye to Jaromir, Lambert even hugging the innkeep. The two mounted the mare and headed off. Jaskier gently prodded Lambert as they rode, to remember his posture. It would be a stressful dinner, and better get into the mindset early.   
  
Sooner than he would’ve liked the estate came into view, with the haze of the ocean in the distance. Lambert stared at the distant horizon, far more interested in the vast ocean than the old castle before him. The mare was stabled, and again it was someone Jaskier remembered. He looked sad, and bowed low taking the reins from Jaskier as he swung down to greet the old man. “Lord Julian. Lord Ferrant awaits you in the main hall. Shall I keep your mare the same as last time?”   
  
“Yes, please. Thank you for remembering.”   
  
Lambert looked at Jaskier with questions in his eyes. He whispered as he made a show of helping the boy down, “He’ll keep her ready to run. My cousin is angry.”   
  
Ferrant was exactly the plucked peacock that Lambert imagined he’d be. He wore a ridiculous outfit of turquoise and magenta. Balding and pudgy, the man sprawled across the room, flanked by bored looking men with swords. The castle was oppressive and ostentatious, with a tense atmosphere.   
  
“Ah, cousin,” Ferrant sneered. “Home finally with a pup to play your heir? Finally an heir from the family embarrassment. Have you come to unseat me?”   
  
“Ferrant, meet my son Lambert. I brought the paperwork since you doubt us, and I’ve told you every time I’ve come home I am uninterested in a title inherited by no fault of my own.”   
  
Ferrant’s pale eyes glittered and glared, as he gripped the heavy brocaded chair. “Bring me the paperwork,” he flicked a hand at a cowering man that appeared from the corner of the room. “Let’s see this child.”   
  
Lambert raised his chin, eyes narrowing. This man was dangerous and unpredictable. He fought against the urge to cringe back as Jaskier handed over the paperwork to the approaching toady, steadied by a hand Jaskier placed in the small of his back. “He has a name, Ferrant. In case you forget, as my heir he outranks you. You’d do well to remember this.”   
  
Lambert tensed, only now realizing some of the power Jaskier had given him as he watched the man hiss over the paperwork. He had read it all, but not truly understood most of it. He’d heard the sound of kissing, so he just did his best to distract himself with the food, and inspected all of the books Natanel had in his front room. It’d worked well, but when he’d attempted to pour himself more tea, he must have distracted them. 

Ferrant hissed and flung the papers at the servant who scrambled to retrieve them and give them back to Jaskier, bowing as he retreated. “You’re a thrice damned fool, Julian. I assume you’ve already sent copies ahead.”   
  
Julian’s eyes narrowed, knowing Natanel had already left town to deliver the official copies to keep Ferrant from derailing his plans. “Ferrant, have I ever done anything halfway?” For all his softness and gentle laughter, the way he’d always been willing to curl around Lambert and dance and sing… Jaskier was currently nearly unrecognizable. 

The deep cut and color of his clothing made him tall and imposing, his posture making him commanding and regal. His chin held high, his shoulders wide and strong enough to keep the world from crushing them both. Lambert’s eyes were wide and in awe, as he watched the fire that burned in the blue eyes. “You know what this is. You know what will happen if you try to subvert me. You invited us for dinner and yet you keep both me and my heir standing as if supplicants in my own home. You have ruled in my stead for twenty years, much to both of our preferences. We can either have dinner and catch up as the cousins we are, or I can and will remove you from position and find another.”  
  
Ferrant switched masks easily, smiling jovially, sitting back in the chair, legs spread wide. “Of course, Julian. It’s been so long! I had been waiting for a friend to show up, a friend I wanted to introduce you to. They’ve only recently come to town. They’re a bit late today but I’ve been told you went to see them already? Come, let us talk over food.”   
  
Levering himself up, he swept a sloppy bow to Lambert, waving them towards the dining room where they were seated at a feast with four places set. Ferrant sat at the head of the table, eliciting a raised eyebrow from Jaskier. Lambert hesitated, then crossed the table to sit across from Jaskier instead of beside him. The move gave Ferrant pause, but shrugged it off as he turned to scream at a server to hurry with the plates. As he had his back, Jaskier switched the wine goblet that would have been Lambert’s and his cousin’s with quick fingers and with a shake of his head Lambert knew not to touch his own. He sat straight, putting his shoulder’s back and lifting his chin as Ferrant finally turned to his guests and proposed a toast.   
  
Lifting his goblet, Ferrant smiled oil slick and smarmy, “To the long life and health of our new Viscount, and may your abdication be the peace you deserve.”   
  
Jaskier lifted the goblet to his lips, pretending to drink, the wine only barely wetting his lips as Ferrant smiled and drained his glass. Jaskier almost immediately paled as the taste hit him and gagged. A grin slid across Ferrant’s face, razor sharp and hungry. “What’s wrong, cousin? The vintage not to your tas- ta-” He faltered, confused, then angry. Trying to stand, his arms collapsed and his head dropped, unconscious onto the plate.   
  
“Lambert, now, let’s go.” Jaskier was unsteady, grabbing a loaf of bread and viciously tearing a huge bite off as he reached for Lambert’s shoulder as they rushed back out the way they came. They dared not wait to find out what Ferrant had intended Lambert to drink. Scrubbing his mouth with a sleeve unsteadily, Jaskier stumbled again. Lambert took charge, guiding Jasker quickly out the doors back to where they found their horse ready, with the old stable hand doing his best to look busy.   
  
“Help me, he’s sick!”   
  
The old man took one glance at the unsteady pair. “Little lord, I would love to. But I can’t. You need to run.” He lifted the boy into the saddle and manhandled Jaskier up behind him. After a thought, he pulled his belt off and lashed Jaskier’s wrists loosely to the pommel of the saddle, bracketing Lambert. 

  
“Boy. Listen!” He shook Lambert’s leg to get his full attention. “Ride. Take the road back through town, and follow it out. I don’t know where Lord Julian planned to go from here, but you need to leave now and fast. Ride as long as you can, then hide off the road. Get him to eat as much of this bread and the oats as you can. A druid lives in the woods an hour south of here if you can find them.” The old man patted a heavy sack that hung by Lambert’s knee. Heavy water skins balanced the other side, and another pack had been lashed on top of their saddlebags. “Run!” he commanded, the old man slapping the rump of the mare, who tossed her head and took off, Lambert clinging to the reins, Jaskier leaning heavily on his back, fighting to stay conscious.


	8. Tell me everything

Lambert clung to the mare’s mane, the reins wrapped in his hands. She took off at a gallop, tearing away from the estate grounds, but slowed down to a canter nearing town. Flicking her ears about she was clearly unsettled by the unbalanced load on her back. Lambert pressed with his heels, encouraging her to keep moving as she rambled through the town center, clearly unsure of where her rider was taking her. Past the town proper she relaxed again, easing into a slow rolling canter that Lambert found much easier to balance Jaskier behind him. They didn’t stop until they came to a crossroads, and Lambert glanced back and forth. He was supposed to head south, for the healer. The sun had already set below the treeline, but Lambert was pretty sure he had to turn right. He pulled the mare’s head along gently, hoping she was as trustworthy as Pegasus had been, and dropped the reins over Jaskier’s hands. 

He yanked the now mangled loaf of bread out from between his chemise and his doublet, wrinkling his nose and shaking out the crumbs. That’d be uncomfortable later. He leaned slightly over and poked Jaskier in the head with the bread. “Hey! Hey, you’re supposed to eat this.”  
  
Moaning, Jaskier lifted his head from where he’d hidden his face in the boy’s neck. He was not in good shape, but after a few tries he managed to tear off a mouthful of bread and tucks his face back into Lambert’s neck and curls into him more.   
  
Lambert fought back tears, tearing off a hunk of the bread himself. How far was the healer? How would he find them? No matter the answer he needed to be there faster. Picking up the reins again, he dug his heels into the mare’s side and urged her back into a canter.   
  
It took days, hours, minutes, before the horse slowed, this time to a stop. Tossing her head and snorting, she refused to go further. Out of the woods slipped three men, all in black leather armor, on horseback. They all carried had swords, and swiftly surrounded the pair.   
  
Lambert tensed, scared and shook Jaskier’s arm. “Jaskier!” he hissed. “Jaskier please, come on. I think these are witchers. Please Jaskier.”   
  
The youngest looking witcher raised a hand, and rode up beside Lambert, close enough so he could see the medallion. So similar to the one in his pack, but different. “Hello little pup.”   
  
Lambert leaned into Jaskier, but kept his chin up and his eyes angry, as Jaskier had when intimidating the horrible bald man. Ferrant. Ferrant, who hurt Jaskier. “Why are you bothering us, I need to get to the druid. Jaskier is sick!”   
  
“Not sick, poisoned, little pup. Don’t you know?” The witcher leaned over, sniffing over them both, but watching Lambert warily. When Lambert refused to reply, shaking Jaskier’s arm again, the witchers withdrew and began talking amongst themselves.   
  
“We can’t leave him like this,” the youngest pointed at the pair.   
  
“It’s not our business! What would you have us do? Mollycoddle every injured pup we come across?” The oldest snorted, and left the remaining two blocking the path, watching the pair.   
  
“You know what would happen if they found out we didn’t help the pup.”   
  
The older one sighed, and followed the previous witcher’s path. “Fine, but they’re your responsibility.”   
  
The youngest trotted back, grasping the reins below the chin, tugging the horse along beside into the woods. “Hey! Where are you taking us, I need to get to a healer!” Lambert was crying openly now, pulling ineffectively at the reins. He pushed his foot against the witcher’s horse, trying to push them away, but neither the witcher nor the horses paid him any mind.   
  
“I need to HELP HIM.”   
  
“Quiet down, pup. If you want to live, be quiet. I’m going to help you.”   
  
Lambert realized with a start they were now walking around the outside of a large caravan full of witchers. There were only a few women, and a handful of children, and none of them paid them any mind. The older witcher from earlier caught Lambert’s eye from his place on a log nearest a camp fire, and watched them walk past.   
  
It wasn’t until the sound and the sight of the fire was gone before the young witcher stopped them. “Alright. I’m going to set you up a camp here. You’re going to listen to me, you’re going to do as I say, you’re going to be quiet, and you’re going to remember my name is Aleyx. Repeat it.”   
  
“Listen, do as you say, be quiet. You are Aleyx. Why are we far away from the others? Why are you helping me?”   
  
“Shh! Because.” Aleyx untied the bags from around the saddle tossing them to the side of the small clearing. He raised an eyebrow at the when the longbow case was clearly not a longbow, but said nothing. He helped Lambert wiggle out from underneath Jaskier, pointing to the saddlebags. Lambert pulled out the bedroll and blanket, shoving a handful of fruit and nuts in his mouth before coming back to hold the mare as Aleyx untied the belt from Jaskier’s wrists, catching him easily and laying him on the bedroll. “Hey Puppy? You want this back?”   
  
Lambert looked up at the belt, baffled that he could possibly be considered to give a shit about it as Jaskier lay senseless on the bedroll. The Witcher untacked the horse, and tied her off to the far side of the clearing before starting a small fire. He watched the young boy slowly pet the bard’s fringe, face still crumpled and tear streaked.   
  
“He’ll be fine, pup. He’ll feel better after we get more in him. Tomorrow he’ll be back to squawking his songs.”   
  
“How do you know?” The boy’s voice trembled.   
  
The witcher paused, looking at Lambert carefully. Whatever he saw there must have convinced him. He crouched down next to the boy, talking quietly “Look. He doesn’t smell like death, just like sick. He must not have had much of whatever it was. I’ve got a potion I can give him - don’t give me that look it’s safe for humans- and with food and rest he’ll be fine by tomorrow. You will stay here tonight because it’s safer near us, but you’re staying over her away from us because frankly pup, we have _no_ idea what’s going on with you.”   
  
With that, he disappeared into the forest, leading his own horse away. Lambert scrambled over to their belongings, tugging open the saddlebag and pulling out another handful of dried fruit and a strip of jerky. He nibbled on his dinner, petting Jaskier’s hair as he ate.   
  
Eventually, Aleyx returned with a bowl, and a friend. The other witcher tossed a few logs next to the fire, set two more on the hastily built campfire and left silently, growling something quietly as he passed. Aleyx knelt down next to them. “Alright pup. Hold up his head, he can’t lay down to drink this.” They maneuvered Jaskier until he was leaning against Lambert, who sat cross legged behind him, hugging his head to keep it upright. The witcher poured first the potion down Jaskier’s throat, slapping his face lightly to bring him around.   
  
“Bard!”   
  
Jaskier only groaned, but his eyes opened and peered at the witcher looking back at him. “Who’r’ou”   
  
“Drink this.” He tipped the bowl up to Jaskier’s mouth, slowly pouring it down his throat, allowing the bard to drink the thin gruel at his own pace. After, they arranged Jaskier back laying down, and the witcher stood with his arms crossed. “He’ll be fine by tomorrow. Stay in the campsite here. Don’t leave until he wakes up. You’ll be fine tonight. We’ll be gone before you wake up, and if you follow us they’ll probably kill you. You never saw us, you know that right?”   
  
Lambert nodded quietly, watching the witcher leave again. He curled up against Jaskier, resting his head on the bard’s shoulder and cried himself to sleep. 

\---

  
The morning came, and Jaskier hurt everywhere. He rolled over and wretched, vomiting bile and… well. That’s a terrible color. Scraping some dirt over his mess he leveraged himself up. Lambert was curled in the smallest ball beside him, rumpled with a tear streaked face. Jaskier couldn’t quite remember what happened after getting to the stables in Lettenhove. Fuck. Was Ferrant dead?   
  
The campfire was low but still going, the horse grazing contentedly. Their bags stacked, and most importantly, _he_ wasn’t dead. What happened yesterday? Glancing over his shoulder at Lambert, he was pretty sure whatever it was wasn’t important. It looked more traumatic than not, and there wasn’t a song in the world worth Lambert’s tears.   
  
Still groggy and shaky, Jaskier dragged the saddlebags closer and threw some oats and water in his small pot to cook for breakfast. Rummaging through the extra bags he found more food, a soft brush for their horse, a tie line, rope, a small tent, another blanket and a heavy bag of coin. Apparently his packing skills were judged and found wanting. He was most amused by the heavy bag of oats, but walked a handful over to the mare and rubbed her face gently, as she nibbled her treat, thanking her for taking them to safety.   
  
A soft cry startled him as Lambert awoke to find Jaskier missing. The boy tore across the tiny clearing, nearly leveling Jaskier with the force of his hug. “What happened cub?”   
  
Lambert shook his head and clung, while Jaskier rocked him. “Well, food will be ready shortly, we can get on our day. Do you know where we are?”   
  
“South. I think. Out of town. Turned right.”   
  
“South is a good place to be. Want to go see Cintra? It’s been a long time since I’ve been there, there’s a little girl I think you’d enjoy meeting. I try to visit her, now and then. Her mother was a friend of mine.”   
  
Lambert nodded, holding tight but relaxing as Jaskier chattered about their plans while dishing out breakfast. They ate quickly, and changed out of their finery, packing it down in the bottom of their saddlebags. They wouldn’t have needed them any time soon, and the sturdy boots and sturdy trousers were far more comfortable on the road and far less conspicuous. After a lazy morning, Lambert kicked dirt over the fire before scattering it while Jaskier tacked up the horse to begin their trip. 

  
They reached the border of Kerack by midday, heading south into Verden. The amount of traffic north on the road started to worry Jaskier, so he hurried them along, looking for the nearest town that would have answers.   
  
It wasn’t the next day that they entered the outskirts of Hamm. The small town was busy with people and the marketplace was packed.   
  
“Something’s wrong, Jaskier.”   
  
“I know. I’d go into the inn to ask but… I don’t think I want to leave you alone right now.” Jaskier watched the crowd, listening to the chatter and watching.   
  
“Jaskier. They’re all talking to the innkeep over there. I can get through easier than you. I’ll just pretend I’m buying apples. We can hear what they’re saying.”   
  
Jaskier looked down at the dirty, disheveled child with fire in his eyes. “I’ll wait here. Come straight back.” He tucked coins in the small hand, and Lambert slid down and disappeared into the crowd. Jaskier waited, looking for the small mop of dark hair that he didn’t see. He stretched up and looked over the crowd, but saw nothing. It was a long, long wait.   
  
He hummed to himself, plotting a little melody as he waited. He had been toying with a new song, the brave little knight finding out he was a prince all along. Lambert materialized beside him, clambering up and taking the reins, leading them back out of town. Jaskier did his best to stay calm, accepting the apple Lambert pressed into his hand. It was a long time before they escaped the milling crowds.   
  
Once they had some space from other travelers, Jaskier leaned forward and asked quietly, “What did you hear my sneaky snake?”   
  
“Cintra fell. Nilfgaard attacked, and they are scared they will march here next.”   
  
Jaskier was very, very quiet for a while, eating the apple given to him. After awhile, he took the core from Lambert, slipped down, and lead them into the woods. He fed the cores to the mare while he looked for a good spot to sit, lucking out and finding a small stream. He set up the tie line to let the mare drink and forage as she liked. Sitting on a stone, he pulled Lambert close to sit next to him.   
  
“Lambert. I need you to tell me everything you heard. Everything, leave nothing out.”


	9. The Hunt, Interrupted

Spring thaw had only just cleared the ice from the path down the mountain by the time Geralt set off down the mountain. Roach was laden heavy with supplies, as his priority this season was finding two lost men. Eskel had just as far to travel, but stayed behind a week closing up the keep with Vesemir.    
  
It wasn’t uncommon for Vesemir to hunt and clear Northern Kaedwen, though often it was Eskel who stayed this far north. His boys loved to roam, however, and you could never be certain where on the continent they strayed. They took a small cart down the mountain, filled with a few goats. Vesemir led the donkey he used to pull the supply cart. Eskel was quiet following the cart, petting the smallest goat that laid dozing across his lap.    
  
It didn’t take long to reach a small farm in the forest as the sun began to set. “Vesemir, are you sure?”   
  
The old Witcher leveled his pup with a glare, clearly familiar with the farm as he turned the goats and donkey into a pasture. “If you don’t trust me son, take the goat with you. But that spoiled thing will be fine here for a season. You know I’m not going far, I’ll be back regularly to check on the herd, and to Ard Carraigh to check for messages.”    
  
Eskel kissed the top of the small goat’s head, and leaned down over the fence, dropping the wiggling bundle down where it immediately bolted towards it’s herd kicking and jumping. “I trust your judgement. I’m going to get a few more hours in before stopping for the night. There’s a long way yet to go to Vizima.” Turning the large black stallions head away, Eskel took off at a canter down the path, chasing the spectre of a lost brother.    
  
Vesemir sighed at the back of his most steadfast boy so visibly shaken and worried. This would be a long year, as even without the worry Lambert was always a difficult witcher to find. He was known to have befriended the Cat witchers, who were some of the best at traveling the continent undetected, slipping through the shadows.    
  


After untacking and stabling the donkey and his horse for the evening, he approached the farmhouse knowing he was expected. He didn’t even knock, just slipped inside.    
  
“I need a favor. Can you keep the herd until I return? I have a long contract ahead of me.”   
  
A slight woman with long grey hair took one of his hands in both of hers and smiled gently at him, “Ves, you needn’t ask. Can I help?”    
  
He shook his head, “Not unless you’ve heard from Lambert.”    
  
Her eyes widened. “Eskel stopped by on his way up the mountain to ask. Still nothing?” Vesemir’s eyes answered her question easily, and she guided him further inside. “Stay the night, you can head out tomorrow. I’ll take care of you tonight.”    
  
\---   
  
Geralt was not having good luck. Usually, every damn town he went through he was met with derision and glares. Now that he was in a hurry, now they wanted his help. He limped back through the town, dragging a griffin head. He was filthy, this hunt took two days longer than it should have. He was still days away from Oxenfurt even if he rode hard. He had left Roach at the inn to rest- he’d ridden her hard since leaving Kaer Morhen and while a hunt was easier with her, he’d never forgive himself if he lost her too.    
  
Pounding on the Alderman’s door, covered in blood and dirt, angry at the world and himself, Geralt was not paying attention to exactly how entirely predatory he looked. The young woman who opened the door took one look at him and fainted. Startled, he caught her before she hit the ground. “Hello?” He called into the house, hearing a crash and scrambling as the Alderman came clambering down the stairs.    
  
The heavyset man paused at the sight of an enormous blood covered witcher cradling the head of his daughter. “You might want to hurry, I suspect she’ll faint again if she comes round now.” Geralt gestured, encouraging the heavyset man to hurry, lifting and pouring the young girl into his arms. The man was portly, but strong, and disappeared quickly into a side room with the girl before returning. “Sorry about her dress but -”   
  
“No, no Master Witcher, thank you. It isn’t as if getting blood out of clothing is unfamiliar to the fairer sex. She’ll be fine. A small price to pay even if the stain sets, I see you’ve rid our town of the foul beast. Fowl.” The alderman prodded the feathered head and giggled, before composing himself. “Now, Master Witcher. I hope you won’t find it offensive, but ah. I know you said you were in a hurry, but I could have my staff draw a bath for you?”   
  
Geralt paused. Yet again he was reminded, painfully, of the cruelty he’d spat at the bard. A bard who had given him kindness, and inspired kindness in others. “Ah. You. Yes, actually. That’d really help.” He looked down at himself, “Could I borrow a washing tub while I’m at it?”    
  
The alderman looked taken aback, “Master Witcher, you killed the beast that has harangued our town’s flocks, taken two of our children and cut off the trade route for over a month now. My girls will wash anything you wish, and while my Wisia may not have the strongest constitution, she’s talented with a needle and can likely repair anything you need.”    
  
It was surreal to Geralt, finally convinced of the man’s kindness. He watched the household flutter around him, still stunned to be given a hot bath, and a clean set of clothing to wear as the shy girl from before took the bloodied set from him. He was handed a damp, repaired set of clothing after he finished a meal at the alderman’s table, doing his best to tell him about the hunt. Again, he was reminded of the times Jaskier had begged for the same details around a campfire, eyes bright in the darkness. 

After that, Geralt avoided towns the best he could, heading as directly as he could to Oxenfurt. He wanted to scream when the Dean looked confused at the Witcher. Jaskier hadn’t been seen on campus since the winter before last, and they hadn’t heard from him of plans to return. The man smelled nervous, of musty old books and his pipe, but he had been telling the truth. 

Geralt found an inn near the university and settled in. The last he’d heard Triss was in Novigrad, so he wrote a letter begging her to come see him. The innkeep sent his best messenger out, with Geralt promising extra coin if the lad hurried. Now all he had to do was wait, but wasn’t that always the worst part?   
  


\---

Eskel went from town to town, riding through and ignoring the smaller contracts. Usually easy money, but knowing how much Lambert delighted in clearing a monster nest with explosives, any similar contracts meant the young witcher had not been around.    
  
Riding down through Ellander, Eskel stayed far south of Vizima, planning on heading to the city if he came across any news. Mages could be found on the path now and then, but a city that big would guarantee him the ability to send Vesemir news. Best to wait until he actually had news.    
  
Not for the first time, Eskel wondered if his brother simply sailed to Skellige, or stayed with that Cat witcher everyone pretended they didn’t know about. Anything was possible, Lambert delighted in being unpredictable. But with his wild temper, it was always a fear he’d piss off the wrong person and end up in a fight he couldn’t win.    
  


The further south he got, however, the more nervous Eskel became. He had mostly been avoiding inns, knowing Lambert generally preferred camping and it was unlikely an inn would have any information. However, riding toward Mayena Eskel found the roads packed with travelers headed north. The stench of fear and despair filled the air, and even Scorpion pranced in place unsettled as Eskel considered the road before him. There was always work in war, but this was something Vesemir and Geralt likely needed to know.    
  


It wasn’t long until a small group of questionably armed men waved him down. “Sir Witcher!” Eskel watched them approach, joining them as they headed back the way he came. “Ride with us, we’re escorting these refugees to Vizima. We could use another pair of strong hands.” The men looked tired, wielding a wide variety of weaponry from a pitchfork to what looked like a dinged Nilfgaardian blade. They smelled like farmers, the acrid stench of pigshit and fear, but the worst was the women and children in the wagons behind them. Wide eyes stared at him, but the despair and hunger in their eyes convinced him.    
  
“Aye, I can travel with you, but there’ll be a cost. I need to know everything you can tell me about what’s going on south.”   
  
At the mention of cost, the self appointed leader had tensed, but smiled sadly at the witcher before him. “My boys can hunt, too. We’ll share our meals for your hand, Witcher.”    
  
“Your boys look well tired enough, I’m sure I can help. Now please. Call me Eskel.”   
  
“Thank you, Eskel.” He turned to the witcher as the horses plodded on down the path. “We don’t know much, just a village of farmers. But I can tell you, Witcher. Cintra has fallen, and our Queen, the Lioness of Cintra, is dead.” 

\---

Vesemir was getting too old for this shit. He did sometimes find himself lonely over the years. In a keep at the edge of the world, waiting for his last three pups to come home every winter. It had gotten better once he found Mignole. She was a widow years past, and had hired him to dispatch a young wyvern that had been picking off her goat herd. They’d developed a deep friendship, enjoying the physical and emotional comfort they offered to each other. 

They were both familiar with loss, and the uncertainty that is staying behind while their children flew off into the world. Mignole’s daughter rarely visited, taking over the family’s affairs in Oxenfurt. Her sons, however, visited every few months, often trading responsibility to check their mother’s winter stores before the snows made the passes impossible. Vesemir had met the youngest, who had thanked him for helping them provide for her. 

Vesemir had slowly worked his way in an easterly route around Ard Carraigh, and was headed into the city before trying along the western side. Usually the boys cleared Kaedwen on their way out in spring, but Geralt didn’t delay in his mad dash west, and Eskel clearly left all of the easiest contracts on his way. This meant Vesemir was neck deep in hunts, although the coin did mean he always had enough to sleep in proper beds. 

  
As he rode into Ard Carraigh, however, the blacksmith’s boy saw him and came barreling down the road at him. “Master Vesemir! There’s letters for you! At the inn!”    
  
Startled by the young man’s flight, Vesemir urged his lazy horse into a trot, worried about what news could be waiting for him. 

\----

Geralt only had to wait a day before Triss swept into the inn. He’d been nursing an ale in his favored spot, and saw her before she saw him. She looked tired, stressed, and nnot in the best of moods.    
  
“Geralt! What in all that is holy do you need, do you not know how busy I am right now?”   
  
“Lambert is missing. Jaskier is missing. I was hoping you could help me-”   
  
“Geralt. Your brother, who  _ notoriously does not like to be found _ is hard to find? And you lost your  _ boyfriend?  _ I don’t have time for this!” She threw up her hands, and leaned over the table. “Nilfgaard marches, Geralt. Cintra is going to fall, there’s more things to worry about right now than a hiding witcher and your misplaced bard!”   
  
“What?” Geralt hissed.    
  


“You haven’t heard? Oh, Geralt.”    
  
Geralt took a deep breath. Lambert was a witcher, with years on the path and far more deadly friends than enemies. Jaskier could charm his way into any bed, and probably wintered in a court warm and fed. He stood, gently taking the sorceress by the arm and guiding her to the room he’d rented to talk with more privacy. “Triss, I need you to portal me to Cintra. And I need you to let the others know.”    
  
By evening, they’d written letters to be delivered to Eskel and Vesemir, and Triss promised to keep her ear to the ground for news herself. “Geralt, you know I’m going to be involved in this. Yenn and I already have plans, but I’ll keep an ear out. I’m going to stay in Oxenfurt a little longer, I’ve been doing some research for her. That ridiculous bard can’t be too hard to find, there’s good money in war for witchers. You may even find Lambert in Cintra.”   
  
She ran a finger down his arm, but he took her hand in his and shook his head. “Triss. I need to leave tonight.”   
  
“What’s in Cintra that’s so important you can’t spend the night?”   
  
Geralt cringed, knowing the judgement he deserved for ignoring this for so long. “The lion cub is my child surprise.”    
  
Triss simply shook her head at her old friend and opened the door, “Well, then. Let’s get you on your way. I’m assuming you’re taking Roach.”

Ten minutes later, Geralt lead Roach through a portal. 


	10. Letters

Lambert laid on his stomach across the saddle, face down, arms and legs dangling as they walked down the road. Jaskier shook his foot. “You’re going to give yourself a head rush, and I don’t think she is fond of you flailing about.”  
  
“Nightmare loves me and will let me hang here as long as I want.”  
  
“I love you, but I’m going to have to listen to you moan when you make yourself sick!” Jaskier slid Lambert’s unresisting body off the horse and set him on the ground. "Now, we’re nearly to the river! We’ll be in Oxenfurt by dinnertime, look!"  
  
They’d moved quickly over the last few weeks, Jaskier more worried about putting distance between them and Cintra than playing in taverns. Every few days, though, he’d do his best to cheer up a somber tavern crowd and refill their coin while Lambert slept like the dead on a soft bed. No one ever troubled them, and Lambert learned to appreciate the warm bathtub of an inn over a cold rinse in a stream. Either way, Jaskier always washed and braided his hair, which now started to reach the middle of his back. Jaskier kept his hair above his chin with a longer fringe swept to the side, and Lambert loved the soft beard on his face when Jaskier would wrap him in a hug, pressing his face into Lambert’s neck. He felt safe and loved and calm. 

Jaskier dug through the pack, so much lighter now that they were close to Redania. He sent a letter ahead a few weeks ago stating his intention to return as a professor, but the lack of confirmation worried him. They still had not touched the spare bag of coin in the saddlebags, but Jaskier had plans for Lambert that would require a regular income. The boy was clever and quick to learn, and had a fantastic sense of rhythm. He pulled out some of the last strips of jerky, and he led them on, across the bridge and into Redania.  
  
Jaskier left Lambert in charge of Midnight and transferring the rest of their belongings to the room he rented in the inn for the night. If the meeting with the Dean went well, he’d have a faculty apartment shortly, and possibly courses to teach, if not at least regular guest lecturing. Jaskier washed his face in the room quickly, changing into a clean pair of black trousers, white chemise left unlaced and threw his delicate dark blue doublet over the top. He looked every inch the carefree bard, but the darker colors and beard gave him a sultry, knowledgeable aura instead of the delicate youthful vibe of previous years. He kissed Lambert on the head as the boy dragged in the rest of the gear, grumbling. “I’ll be back hopefully with good news. Eat if you’re hungry!”  
  
Lambert looked at the mess around the room and set to work. Jaskier wasn’t usually this messy, but he knew that the bard was nervous and needed to impress the Dean. He hadn’t stopped chattering about that for the last week. Ideas for lectures, talking about songwriting, promising Lambert he’d love the university grounds and the enormous library. Jaskier had talked about staying here, living here. They had hidden in Lettenhove over the winter, avoiding going into town until necessary. But here Jaskier promised they could live openly. The idea of a bedroom and a home where they weren’t in danger was intriguing. Lambert could remember having a bedroom, many years ago. But that wasn’t a safe place. Jaskier needed Lambert to be strong and smart, so he would be. After organizing their belongings, Lambert went downstairs and got himself dinner, sitting as close to the dancing and singing bard as he could. Jaskier was better, but it was still fun to watch.  
  
Jaskier clearly arrived back in the middle of the night and had passed out on the bed beside Lambert. Lambert had long since gone to sleep before he got back, and the bard still smelled of wine when Lambert prodded him awake. “News?”  
  
He grumbled about the early morning, only to be laughed at. “I already ate! Wake up, you were back so late! Tell me what happened!”  
  
Jaskier’s entire face lit up and he tackled Lambert into a hug, swinging him bodily around the room. “Lambear, Lambchop, Lamby pamby pot! We not only have a home, but I have signed up for lectures starting next week, and an advanced course over winter! I have heard so much news as well, an old friend of mine is in town, there’s a sorceress in town, even my witcher friend was in town, but he left. Apparently he plans to return, so it’s so good we’re here!”  
  
“Sorceress?” Lambert was puzzled.  
  
“Lambert, little bird, I am still a bit concerned over your memory loss and was hoping for someone to make sure you’re alright. The dean said he’d send her a letter, hopefully she’ll have time to visit us. Now. Food!” Jaskier swanned out the door, leaving Lambert overwhelmed, but laughing. 

They moved into the apartment that week, Lambert delighting in a room all to himself, with a window that overlooked a courtyard. Walking in the front door of the apartment, the first thing you saw was a wide room with a fireplace and small kitchen setup in the corner. The room was larger than any of the bedrooms they’d rented, even slightly larger than the main room of the cottage in Lettenhove. There were a variety of chairs and even a long couch that nearly looked like a bed. Lambert’s bedroom only had a small bed and a desk, but it was all his. Jaskier’s room was directly off of the front door on the opposite site of the apartment from Lambert's. It had a large bed beneath a big window that faced the same courtyard as Lambert’s room. However, only a few days after they’d vacated the inn, they woke to find a letter under the front door. It was short, but not impolite. Apparently the sorceress was named Triss Merigold. 

> Professor Pankratz,
> 
> I’m sure you’re aware of the current political upheaval. Unfortunately this unrest means my attention and talents are required elsewhere for the moment. I apologize I did not get time to look after your son before I called away. I’m sure I’ll return by winter, and I’ll look you up as soon as I am able.
> 
> Regards,  
>  Triss Merigold 

  
It was a good summer anyway. Lambert had free run of the university’s library, and within a month of arriving had half the school enchanted with him. Jaskier was in his element, delighting in the students fawning over Professor Pankratz, and a few older students delighted in finding a musical instrument for Lambert. When they discovered his natural affinity for the drum, Jaskier was so proud he immediately bought Lambert his own and paid for tutoring. When he wasn’t in the library, or climbing trees in the park, he could be found exercising Nightmare. They played music together in their apartment nearly every night, Lambert lax and loose and exhausted from long days exploring. 

Eventually they started playing together in taverns, with the local students delighted in the baby bard learning to improv alongside his father. They’d catch him in the courtyard and cajole him to play with them, teasing and encouraging as his squinted and shy denials soon turned to laughter. His skills improved by leaps and bounds, and soon, autumn was nearly past.  
  
The trees in the courtyard were nearly barren when Lambert saw the witcher ride through town. He’d been climbing an old bare oak tree in the courtyard, watching the traffic through the marketplace. The witcher rode an enormous black horse, with a red coat and terrible scars on his face. Swinging down, he ran to find Jaskier.  
  
Jaskier was in a lecture, but by now they were all used to a small, quiet child sneaking in, usually finding a place to sit in the very front. It was one of the last lectures of the season, and they were all lighthearted and loose at the upcoming break. He loved watching his father, so competent and expressive, eyes alight as he would practically dance across the room describing a melody. His lectures were nearly all performances themselves, and always full. Jaskier's ballads about the witcher lent him fame across the continent, and many still referred to him simply as "The White Wolf's Bard". Here in Oxenfurt, however, his fame rested solely on his talent and skill as a songwriter and poet. 

After the lecture ended, Lambert bounced up. “There’s a witcher in town! I saw him.”  
  
Jaskier froze, willing his fear to not show on his face, “What did he look like?”  
  
“Honestly? A bit scary. He looked really angry, dark hair. Really big black horse. But his coat was red, don’t they wear black?”  
  
Jaskier thought. “Well, should we ask for his help? Maybe I can send a student with a letter. If he looked angry, I’m not sending you.”  
  
Lambert thought that sounded fair. “Why not ask him if he’s a wolf witcher? If he’s not, then it doesn’t matter, he probably doesn’t know. That’s what the books in the library say, that they tend to avoid each other.” 

>   
>  Dear Sir Witcher,  
>  Thank you for the moment of your time. I have a little bit of a problem, a question really. A request for information. It could possibly be mutually beneficial! My son saw you enter the city, and I’d like to formally invite you to dinner. No pressure or expectations, of course, simply a meal and a few questions that we desperately would love to ask of a wolf school witcher. If this is amenable to you, or if you are a wolf school witcher, please feel free to send a reply with my student here, or simply come along to my apartments. You’ll find them in the faculty wing, the doorplate is Pankratz.  
>  Thank you ever so much,  
>  J & L 

They send the letter along with one of the students who always waited for Jaskier outside of the lecture hall door, hoping for another moment of the Professor’s time. She seemed eager to please, and Jaskier hoped for her sake that the witcher would be patient.   
  
\---

“Mister Witcher sir?”  
  
Eskel looked up at a terrified bardling, holding a letter out to him. “How can I help you?”  
  
“Sir, my professor, Professor Pankratz sends this along to you. He asked. I can. Wait for a reply if you’d like?” She stared at the scars on his face, but Eskel did his best not to scowl. She was already afraid. Of course. They were always afraid.  
  
Eskel took the letter from the trembling girl, and read it quickly. “Do you know what they want?”  
  
“No, sir? You probably know them, he’s been playing in taverns around the area with his son-”  
  
“The bard and his boy. Bearded, young boy with long hair?”  
  
She nodded, and he tucked the letter in a pocket. “I’ve seen ‘em in passing, but I’m in a bit of a rush. I’ve got a long way yet to travel, and I’m still looking for someone. Have you seen any other witchers travel through here? Do you know of any around?”  
  
She shook her head, and he took pity on her. “Look, send along my apologies. Not to be rude, but I have no time for the nosy questions of a bard and his boy. Here, for your bravery.” He pressed a coin into her hand and she bolted back out the door.  
  
Of all the strange things, he’ll never get used to the questions he gets in this town. He waves the innkeep over, and asks if Jaskier is in town. “Jaskier? Of course. I can bring the girl back if you want to talk to him.”  
  
He shook his head. “No, no. I’ve got a lead on a contract outside of town tomorrow and I’m on my way. I’d just stopped in to see a friend. Good to know he’s here, though.” The innkeep looked at him, squinting, shook his head and walked away. 

\----

  
Jaskier was disappointed to hear the witcher refused his request, but with the pale face of his student at his apartment’s door he didn’t bother to ask for details, just waved her away with his thanks. “I guess either he wasn’t a wolf, or didn't want to talk.”  
  
Lambert nodded, half dangling over the chair in front of the fireplace where he'd been watching the adults at the door.   
  
“Well little one, there’s a birthday coming up. What would you like to do? After tomorrow I have no lectures for a few weeks until the winter term starts, and they run until just before Birke. Past then, it’ll be up to you if we travel again, or just stay here.  
  
“Can we go to the beach? We’ve been so close, but I want to put my feet in the water.”  
  
“We can go to the coast, little otter. You can swim in the surf and find me beautiful shells. Sound good? The longer we wait the colder it’ll be so why don’t we head out after my last lecture tomorrow? It’s only a short one, we can leave early and eat lunch on the way. We’ll be at the coast by nightfall if we take two horses, and we’ll spend a few days.”  
  
“I will pack the saddlebags while you’re out, and will you bring some of those wraps from the cart by the hall when you come back from teaching?”  
  
“Anything for you, beanpole. Best go to sleep early, then. Tomorrow, we head to the coast.”  
  
Lambert slithered out of the chair until he was a puddle on the ground. “I’m not a beanpole. I’m too short.”  
  
“You’re young yet! I don’t doubt you’ll be much bigger than I am plenty soon enough. Don’t be in a rush, little one.” Lambert stuck his tongue out, and while still in a lump on the ground, slowly scooted himself towards his room, pushing himself along the floor with his legs.


	11. We could go to the Coast

Jaskier dressed for travel that morning, a plain dark blue shirt, his black trousers, and his sturdy boots. He left a note for Lambert reminding him to dress the same, and to pack their cloaks and camping supplies in case Jaskier couldn’t rent a cottage. Jaskier left a folded change of clothes of his own for Lambert to put in the bags. It was an oversized black shirt that billowed slightly, and a pair of dark brown trousers. 

Lambert, however, had stayed up a good portion of the night gathering belongings. The saddle bags were never completely unpacked when they moved into the apartment, so it gave him a big head start. The tent, bedroll and blankets were still in the top largest portion, so he just pulled out that old witcher armor and hung it up on the chair in his room. Jaskier had already removed the dangerous potion bag and hidden it away. That left one whole side nearly empty, so in that side pouch he packed his cloak and a change of clothes. He added Jaskier’s cloak and clothes, and turned the bag around. On this side he put the medical kit at the bottom, and packed a small bag full of dried nuts and jerky he pilfered from the kitchen. He added in a jar of jam wrapped in a towel, and the small pot and bowls they used for cooking while camping. Content with his stash for now, Lambert curled up in the soft, fluffy chair that overlooked the courtyard from the main room. All he had to do was wait for Jaskier to return, and they would leave.    


  
\--- 

  
  
Eskel awoke before dawn, but stayed in the dusty little room until he heard enough noise downstairs that he could be sure of breakfast. He had whiled away the morning ensuring that swords were oiled, potions accounted for, and bags packed. Once he headed downstairs, he paid for both breakfast and a packed lunch. He’d spent the year searching for his brother and the more winter encroached got the more frustrated and angry at himself he became. At least when he finally found Geralt he could tell him the bard was exactly where he said he’d be. He must have come back here for the incoming winter. Eskel only had a few days to clear up this last contract before he had to head back to Kaer Morhen.    
  
He’d only come into Oxenfurt to try and contact Triss. The mage he found in Vizima was happy to send his letters on knowing their mutual friendship with Triss, but had been in a wild state. They were brewing potions and busy and utterly uninterested in further talk with the witcher. Apparently, Yennefer was gathering forces, and the mage refused to portal Eskel anywhere.

  
Triss’ house in Oxenfurt was empty. Eskel considered leaving a letter for her but in the end turned Scorpion towards a small village north of Novigrad, where whispers of a dragon had been terrorizing the local population. It was only supposed to be half a day’s ride, a bit less if he cut straight through the forests, so he turned off the road to Novigrad and headed on his way. The winter chill was biting, and not for the first time Eskel worried he had pushed returning to the keep too late in the year.    
  
At least riding through the forest was peaceful. Eskel had spent a long time guiding the refugees to Vizima, and a few had even followed him again as he headed north to cross the Pontar. Traveling with such a large caravan was exhausting. The constant noise made it impossible to sleep, and he knew there was the risk he had walked away from finding Lambert further south.    
  
It wasn’t until he reached the first farmer’s fields on the outskirts of the small town that he shook off his melancholy. He was relieved to focus on scouting the area as he made his way towards the contract. It was unlikely to be an actual dragon, the deep forest surrounding the farms and rolling hills that opened onto a beautiful view of the ocean made it more far likely a wyvern.    
  
The town was small, but friendly, and while they had no alderman, a stern but pleasant old woman was clearly in charge. She gave him a terse rundown of the losses, detailed even if she had some clearly incorrect assumptions, sitting in the small tavern in the center of town. When one of the young men she asked to escort Eskel to the last place the monster was seen, he grumbled about Eskel himself being the monster. The stern old woman took him by the ear and dragged him outside shouting about talking to the lad’s father. Eskel did his best not to look surprised, especially when the tavern owner brought him a warm bowl of fish stew and a room key.    
  


“Ignore young Iwek there, young blood runs hot. His dad still blames a witcher for the loss of his wife.”   
  
“Recently?”   
  
“No, master witcher. He was a young lad. It’s an old story, but not mine to tell. Wasn’t that witcher’s fault, from what I could tell. Did the best he could.”    
  
Eskel nodded. If it was an old story, it was likely unimportant for the moment. Every witcher had hunts that didn’t go well, and you couldn’t save everyone. He wasn’t interested in hearing another witcher’s failures when he had his own to guilt him.    
  
After eating the lunch he was given, he offered to pay for the room but was waved off. “We’re not a rich town, sir. I know we’re not payin’ much, and a room is the very least I can do.”   
  
Eskel slid a few coins across the counter for the meal, and left to stow his belongings. He wanted to use the last of the light of day to scout around the wyvern’s last sighting. He needed to rest before the hunt, so if he could find where it was hiding he could attack at dawn. 

\------- 

Jaskier bounded into the apartments carrying wrapped parcels under his arm. “Lambypants, are you ready to leave? I brought food, Essi is lending you her horse and I have the key to a little cottage, we don’t even need to go through Novigrad!”    
  
Lambert scrambled off the chair where he’d been dozing, tripping over himself to pull his boots back on. He’d worn the sturdy travel clothes Jaskier had bought him in Lettenhove, a bright crimson shirt with soft brown trousers. Hopping on one foot while fighting with his boot he nearly fell over trying to toss his long hair over a shoulder.    
  
“Oh come closer you turkey, flapping all about. Bun or braid?”    
  
“Braid! Essi’s horse is fast, I want to run a bit!”    
  
Hair tied, bags gathered, the pair bolted out the doors, dodging students and leaping down stairs in a mad dash to the stables that were already saddling the horses. As soon as they’d cleared the city gates, Lambert let Essi’s young gelding have his head, and they dashed down the road, both horses snorting and lashing their tails from the excitement and anticipation from their riders.    
  
It wasn’t until Jaskier led them off the road to Novigrad to a small trail that cut across to the town farther up the coast did he pull the wraps out of Nightmare’s saddlebags, passing one to Lambert. They ate in silence, the horses happy to walk through the forest, ears flicking about at the sounds around them.    
  
“Where’d you get a key? I thought you didn’t know a cottage to stay at.”   
  
“Oh, I told Essi of our plans, she bought a little house up the coast not two weeks ago. She said it’s got a little stable, two small bedrooms and was quite close to a nice little town. She got it cheap, I guess the owners wanted to move to the city. She didn’t ask, so we’re going to see it before she does! It’s not right on the coast, but we can walk to it. Sound good?”   
  
Lambert nodded, his cheeks far over stuffed with the soft wrap. “Chipmunk child, don’t you dare choke on that!” Jaskier scolded, only for Lambert to open his mouth and scrunch his nose at him in defiance. “You, darling child, are disgusting”   
  
Lambert just grinned.    
  
The ride to the cottage took only a few hours, the boys arriving just as the sky began to darken. The trail had opened into a large semicircular clearing, with farms stretching in the wide flat land, a small town tucked in the center. The forests surrounding the village were thick, and the northern edge had rolling hills that loomed up and away. The cottage was said to be the farthest along the seaside path, closest to the forest with an overrun garden and bright red door. It was easy to find, and the stables and house were clean and well kept. Now years of practice had them ready, Jaskier taking the heavy bags in while Lambert settled the horses.    
  
The night was getting cold, and they ate a cold meal in the garden wrapped in their cloaks, unwilling to give up the beautiful scenery yet. The stars were bright with the lack of light and smoke from neighboring houses, the sea crashed beautiful and bright. Far off in the distance they watched a lone rider on a horse exit the woods and head into town. 

They didn’t go inside until Lambert’s head had dropped against Jaskier’s shoulder, snoring softly. Jaskier carried him inside. They’d neglected to light the fireplace when they arrived, so he tucked the boy in the room with the larger bed before lighting it with cold fingers. It wasn’t a hardship to share, and soon Jaskier suspected the boy would no longer want to. The thought broke his heart, so he took every opportunity to hug him, just in case. 

\----

Eskel returned to the inn frustrated. He got back far too late for dinner at the inn, so ate the dried meat and cheese lunch he’d bought in Oxenfurt. He tended to Scorpion himself, brushing him down, feeding the horse before heading up to his room. He had found what looked like a wyvern nest on his scouting trip, a large hole dug into one of the hills closer to the sea. 

  
The nest was in an unfortunate place- not nearly enough room to fight, but he had one grapeshot bomb left that if he planned things well, he could drive it out into the open fields where he could hopefully take it down with Igni. It wasn’t the best plan, but he did not have the time or funds to drag out this hunt before he needed to head home. The mornings had already started having the icy bite of winter, and snow was probably already starting to fall in the northern mountains. It might be wise to try Oxenfurt before he headed back again, to see if Triss had returned. It would only add a few hours to the ride, but if she could portal him it would save him weeks of travel.    
  
He fell asleep staring at the ceiling, unsettled and still upset about the unsuccessful year. 

\---


	12. Fuck.

Lambert woke early, pouncing on Jaskier. “Wake up! I want to go to the beach!”    
  
Jaskier groaned, shoving the pillow over Lambert’s face. “Busy buzzy bee be quiet, the sun is barely up!”   
  
“You promised! I want to go to the water.”   
  
Jaskier pulled the pillow off Lambert’s face again, watching as the boy attempted to pout. He swiftly rose, bowing deeply. “Young Viscount Lambert Pankratz as it is your birthday celebration, we shall go to the beach forthwith. You may swim and splash in the waves all you like.”    
  
Lambert cackled. “I’m not a viscount, you are!”    
  
“Ah, young one, no, that’s been yours for awhile. I gave it to you, did you forget! And now that you are ten years old, nearly a full adult, you shall have to use the title and be boring and polite, forevermore. Dinner must always be eaten with forks, and farting is no longer allowed.”   
  


Lambert stood on the bed barefoot, hands on his hips looking as stern as any 10 year old child would with sleep rumpled clothing, a wild nest of hair and blanket creases on his face. “I refuse to be an adult! I’ll fart all I like.” Jaskier didn't bother to change out of the soft chemise he slept in, simply pulling his dark brown trousers back on. Jaskier picked up their cloaks, flung them at the boy before lifting the entire mess over his shoulder and carrying them into the front room. 

It only took minutes of digging the bag of fruit and nuts out of the saddlebags before they took off to the beach, snacking on the short walk. Jaskier was content to sit and watch Lambert splash around the beach, kicking the sand and jumping in the waves. Soon, however, Lambert stripped bare and dove in.

  
“I’m going to call you a penguin from now on! How are you not cold?”    
  
Lambert shot a mouthful of water in Jaskier’s direction, his bright smile not disguising how pale his lips were and the slight chatter of his jaw.    
  
\----    
  
Eskel woke at dawn, and dressed slowly. He checked and double checked his armor, oiled his swords. He considered the potions in his bag, and took Golden Oriole, Swallow, and Thunderbolt and put them in his belt. The rest he would leave in his saddlebag on Scorpion.    
  
Finally ready to go he headed downstairs, paying for and inhaling two breakfasts. This was going to be a nasty battle, and the potions were always hard on his body. He paid for the meal and handed the key back to the tavern owner. He planned on a quick battle, and then begin the dash to Kaer Morhen before the pass closed.    
  
The sun was nearly entirely up by the time Eskel entered the forest. Even the birdsong was quiet before Eskel left Scorpion ground tied near a small stream. “Stay here.” He tossed back Thunderbolt and Golden Oriole, grimacing at the taste and shaking his head at the jump in toxicity. It was unpleasant, but an under prepared witcher was a dead witcher. He rubbed the horse’s nose, digging the bomb out of the saddlebag before slipping off into the woods.    
  
He had left Scorpion just inside the treeline, hoping to give the horse cover as he crept close to his quarry. It wasn't long before he could see the wyvern curled up within the nest, clearly still asleep. He watched and waited, making sure of no surprises before slipping within throwing range. He palmed the bomb, and with a quick flick of his fingers, lit it and threw it into the nest. He turned and bolted back towards the clearing, knowing he had seconds before the explosion.    
  
He wasn’t disappointed. The wyvern was, unfortunately, not terribly injured. He must have thrown it too far into the nest. It came screaming out over the trees, immediately seeing the witcher running with the bright red armor and silver sword glinting in the sun.    
  
Eskel burst through the treeline as the wyvern landed in front of him. Back to the trees, Eskel threw up Quen instinctively as the wyvern screamed and lashed out with its tail. He dove to the right, the tail shattering the bright gold shield. He slashed out with his sword, as the wyvern reared back, hissing. It leaped, wings spread and Eskel threw a hand out, casting Aard. It knocked the wyvern out of the sky giving Eskel the opening to slash a deep cut across it’s side before dancing out of the reach of long claws. It snapped at him again, missing by a hair as Eskel cast Igni, burning it as it screamed. A vicious grin spread across his face at the fairly easy fight. He should not have let his guard down.    
  
Another scream rent the air, crashing through the forest. Eskel was shocked to see his unflappable stallion tearing away towards the coast at a dead run, chased by a bleeding, shrieking wyvern. “Fuck!”   
_   
_ What the _fuck._ It was a mated pair! How could the villagers not realize there were two? Eskel screamed in frustration, pouring his rage into a massive Igni at the burned, bloodied wyvern in front of him, the shriek drawing the attention of the second. Within seconds he was flanked, and he was not sure how long he could hold Quen. He rolled and ducked, doing his best to avoid the sharp teeth, but it wasn’t long before the tail of the second caught him in his leg, tearing the muscle and dropping him to a knee. 

They both lunged, but Eskel drove himself sideways underneath the burned one, hacking off its head as he twisted. On his hands and knees now he panted, glaring up at the second wyvern circling him, desperately trying to get in the air. Apparently this one had been hit directly with the grapeshot, large holes had been blasted through one wing, with the side and flank littered with holes. It couldn't fly.

Eskel couldn’t stand with the damage to his leg though, and with his back to a now dead wyvern, he had nowhere to run even if he could. He did his best to kneel, and braced as the wyvern screamed one last time before lunging. Eskel drove his sword into its mouth and up through the skull, the vicious teeth slicing his arm, and crashing him down into the ground, breaking his arm as it hit the ground with the full weight of a wyvern head on it.    
  
Crushed between two dead wyverns, and knocked unconscious, Eskel didn’t even see the young men from town who had been watching the battle, coming ever closer through the trees.    
  
\----    
  
The enormous boom and cloud of dust caught both Lambert and Jaskier’s attention, as they froze and stared at the forest. At the scream of the wyvern, Lambert came crashing out of the water, Jaskier throwing his cloak over his small body and dragging them back to the cottage. Once they were out of the open, Jaskier peered around the side of the building watching an enormous wyvern explode out of the forest, turning immediately to attack. Was that a  _ witcher?  _ Lambert was dressed and climbing up the side of the cottage to lay flat on the roof while he watched the battle.    
  
“Lambert  _ what are you doing up there.”  _ _   
_ _   
_ “Do you think he’ll be okay?”   
  
“Lambert get down!”   
  
“You know, I think that’s the grumpy witcher that was in Oxenfurt. He’s got a red coat, too, unless there’s more that wear red.” 

The screaming and shrieking of the wyvern continued, and the two watched the witcher. Just when it looked like the witcher was winning, however, a second wyvern attacked, and a big horse came tearing out of the forest.    
  
Lambert stood up on top of the building, one hand on the chimney as the witcher let loose a terrifyingly large burst of flames. Jaskier had seen Geralt cast Igni before, but never, never such an inferno. After one last scream, everything was silent. “Should we go check on him? I think his horse ran away.”   
  
Jaskier looked over the valley, seeing the horse had indeed run nearly straight to them. He whistled, and the horses’ ears pricked up. It didn’t come closer, but it watched them with interest.    
  
“Jaskier! He needs help!” Lambert leaped off the roof, and ran to the stable, fumbling with Nightmare’s bridle as Jaskier reacted far slower.    
  
“What did you see?”    
  
“There’s a bunch of men surrounding him with swords we need to go!”    
  
“Lambert, we have no weapons!”    
  
“I don’t think they mean to  _ help  _ him _.” _ _   
_   
Well. It wouldn’t be the first time Jaskier ran into danger for a witcher. He just hoped this one wouldn’t hate him as well. “Lambert. Stay  _ here.  _ I’ll bring him back here if I can, but I cannot bring you.”   
  
“RUN.” Lambert sobbed.    
  
Jaskier hadn’t even bothered with a saddle, just yanked himself up on Nightmare's back and took off at a gallop.  _   
_   
\----    
  
Eskel groaned, opening his eyes to see a vaguely familiar face.    
  
“Looks like the monsters killed each other, eh lads?” A sword pressed into his stomach, the bright pain shocking him into more awareness.    
  
“Fuck off, assholes.”   
  
“Ha! Look at the mouth on him, he can speak up now.”    
  
A fist connected with his face and Eskel saw stars. A foot connected with what were already bruised ribs, and another hand tried to pry his silver sword from his hand. Everything was too loud, between the rushing of blood in his ears, the jeers of his tormentors and the thunder of hoof beats.    
  


“Fuck off on out of here!” A new voice boomed over him, a large angry man on a snorting, stamping black horse. The horse danced and thrashed her head about, kicking out. He had a good hold on her, was that. Bareback? Impressive thigh strength, Eskel noted blearily.    
  
“Get off! Damn children, tormenting a witcher who clearly just saved your town from not one, but two wyverns! You should be ashamed, and if you don’t leave here immediately there will be all seven hells to pay!”    
  
Eskel snorted. The man on horseback had balls, for sure. He could smell the terror of the boys, the stink of shame, but for all the anger radiating off the rider, there was still a heavy scent of fear. Well. Perhaps it was because he wasn’t armed. Eskel turned his unbroken arm towards the boy he figured was the leader, and cast a weak Igni. It was still bright and strong enough it spooked the dancing horse, making it rear and kick out, screaming in fear. Thankfully, though, the boys  _ also  _ screamed in fear and ran.    
  
The man on horseback slid off the horse, holding firm to her reins. She blew out her nose, still dancing and upset, eyes wide and ears swiveling.    
  
“Mind perhaps not tossing anymore flames this way? I’m not sure how much more this poor mare will tolerate. She’s being awful good, but your horse ran pretty far.”    
  
Eskel nodded, still woozy from a possible concussion and blearily looked the man over. Tall, long dark hair that hung in his eyes. A pretty pale chemise left unlaced, drawing Eskel’s eyes to his broad shoulders and chest full of hair. He finally looked up into the man’s smiling, gentle face, and bright blue eyes. “Hm. My saviour is awful pretty.”    
  
Jaskier laughed, kicking the wyvern’s corpse farther away. He plucked the sword daintily out of Eskel’s hand, wiping it on his shirt before replacing it in Eskel’s scabbard.    
  
“Do you think you can stand?”    
  
Eskel shook his head. “Cover your ears.”    
  
Ah. Trained like Roach, then. Jaskier obliged, still cringing at the volume as Eskel whistled a loud but vaguely familiar pattern. It didn't take long for Scorpion to run their way. Jaskier used the time to rip strips off the bottom of his shirt to bind Eskel’s leg. By the time he was done the shirt was destroyed leaving the man in only trousers. Eskel really couldn’t find it in him to complain. If he was going to die from this, at least the view was nice.

Jaskier tied his mare to Scorpion’s saddle as he helped the witcher balance on his one good leg. Eskel hobbled over to his enormous horse, and within moments, the horse laid down. It was still a battle even with the horse on the ground, but between the two of them they got the white faced and bleeding witcher onto his horse. Jaskier hung on to the unsteady witcher as the horse first rose on his front legs, then the rear. Once they were both steady, Jaskier pulled the dagger out of his boot. “Trophy?” He waved it at the wyverns.  
  
Eskel shook his head. Insane man. “That tiny dagger? If you can get one of the front paws off, that’d be useful. Though,” he groaned, pressing a hand to his leg “I should probably check if there were eggs.”   
  
Eskel hesitated as the man looked him over carefully, feeling like he was being laid bare. “Point the direction of the nest, I can go look. Do you have anything flammable in those bags? Another bomb, perhaps? As you can see, my saddle bags are empty.”  
  
Eskel snorted. “No more bombs. No flint, either, so I’ll have to come back for them later.”  
  
“Like fuck you will, I’ll send those damn boys to go check. So eager to be heroes, they can clean up. Come on, I’ll take you back to my cottage and get you cleaned up.”  
  
Eskel wasn’t in any state to argue, and all he smelled off the man was honesty. It wasn’t until he’d mounted his own mare did Eskel startle, blearily realizing this man didn’t smell like fear. He looked him in the eye, hadn't so much as given his scars a second glance. He helped him on the horse, offered to cut a trophy off and never once smelled of fear. What a strange creature. “So, sir witcher, my cottage is that one. Not far at a run but I fear it’ll take us a little while to get there. You can see my son standing on the roof again. That feral monkey, one of these days he’ll fall. GET DOWN FROM THERE YOU THRICE DAMNED TURKEY.” He saw the long haired boy wave, sliding down and disappearing.   
  
It only took about ten minutes, though they were some of the longest ten minutes in Eskel’s life to get to the cottage. By that time he was covered in sweat and starting to get delirious from blood loss and pain. The man managed to get Scorpion to lay down again in front of the cottage, manhandling the witcher inside. “Get those horses stabled fast as you can, I’m going to need help with him.”  
  
Jaskier leaned Eskel against the large table in the dining room, quick fingers plucking through his armor straps, undressing him. Eskel felt drunk. He wasn’t sure if it was the blood loss or the fact that quite a lot of boy was currently undressing him very, very quickly.   
  
“What potions do you have on you? Have any Swallow?”   
  
Eskel’s brow creased as he was guided to lay down. When did his shirt come off? His hand grasped at the pouch on his belt, but long fingers plucked his own enormous hands out of the way.   
  
“No, no darling let me, oh. Oh my. Well you DID have a Swallow. Is there more in your saddlebags?”   
  
Eskel nodded, he thinks. He croaked out “Yes” to be sure, and soon his pants and boots were off too. The boy had clearly come back as he fluttered in and out of the edge of Eskel’s line of sight, and in a heartbeat or four a potion was pressed into Eskel’s hand. It was hard to focus on anything except those big blue eyes in front of him.   
  
“This one, right? Double check it, look.” Long, strong fingers and strong arms held up his own hand, with his spare Swallow. He grunted. “Alright, here, take this, we’ll take care of you.”   
  
He allowed the potion to be poured down his throat as his head thumped back on the table. His toxicity was high, but not fatal. He hoped he would survive this.   
  
\---  
  
Jaskier had a very large wolf witcher on Essi’s dining room table. A wolf witcher who only just declined meeting them. A wolf witcher who was in dire need of a wash and lots and lots of stitches. Thankfully he was unconscious at the moment.   
  
Lambert had brought in a bucket of water after dealing with the horses and bringing the witcher’s saddlebags to Jaskier. He wasn’t sure what to do and kept flitting around the table. “Lambert. Little one. Tiny bird. Stop. Take that cloth and start wiping the blood away for me if you can. I need to stitch up this leg right now or he’ll never use it comfortably again. This… this is a terrible slash.”   
  
It took what seemed hours, but Lambert slowly had the witcher cleaned, even washing the blood out of his hair with another bucket. The floor suffered for it, but Jaskier was so proud, and didn’t hesitate telling the boy so as he stitched wound after wound. The ones shallow enough to be left were wrapped with bandages, though there were so many Jaskier used all of their small medical kit and had to tear up one of the clean sheets from a small closet. He didn't dare dig through the witcher's pack, as it was he was sure he'd be yelled at for taking the Swallow out of the witcher's potion bag.   
  
However, the boy was tiring and Jaskier was finally done stitching. The sun was getting low in the sky, so Jaskier dug in the pack to see what food Lambert had brought. He hadn’t done too badly, and the pack of dried meat, bread and cheese that Jaskier brought along as well were quickly set out as a meal. “Eat up sweetness, then go curl up in your room. The witcher can have my bed.”  
  
Lambert was too tired to argue, and the stress of the day had him dropping off to sleep before the sun had even set. Jaskier watched the witcher for awhile longer before going outside to bring in extra firewood. Healing was always exhausting, and the few times he'd had to help Geralt with wounds anywhere near this bad he complained of the chill. Shaking his head, Jaskier scolded himself. He was certainly not going to think about Geralt right now.  
  
He stood, inspecting the witcher before him. He was a beautiful specimen, tall and broad. He had a strong jaw and full lips, marred by scars. Jaskier wanted to run his fingers down them. Jaskier wanted many things, and he would have exactly none of them. Not anytime soon, and probably not at all. He carefully slid his arm under the witcher’s back, and then under his knees, sliding him slowly towards the edge of the table, before lifting him. The witcher was solid, packed of dense muscle. He was heavy, but the bed wasn’t far, and Jaskier carried him to bed before tucking him in and building the fire in the main room a little bit higher for the night. He curled up in the big soft chair in front of the fireplace and fell asleep. 


	13. A formal invitation to Supper

Eskel woke up to soft laughter, and the smell of food. Everything hurt, and the room he was in was far too bright. Was he naked? Checking under the blanket, he was relieved to see he still had his smalls on. His right arm was still painful, the break not healed. Those always took a long time, and ached terribly until they were done. 

He traced small neat stitches that littered his arms and his stomach. His leg was tightly wrapped and from the bright sharp pain he probably did not want to see the damage. Even bending his body to attempt to peek underneath the bandages caused sharp twinges. Fuck. He poked at his ribs, hissing. Probably cracked.   
  
He tipped his head back, thinking back over what he could remember through the haze of pain and toxicity. There were two wyverns. Shit, and that asshole kid Iwek. Then the man who rode up. Eskel cast his eyes about the room. He did say he’d bring him to his cottage. With his kid. Did he get his name? All he could remember was bright, shockingly bright blue eyes so near his face and soft hands.   
  
He scrubbed a hand over his face, groaning as habit made him attempt to lift both forgetting that one was still badly injured. 

\---

  
  
As usual, Lambert woke early, but he’d curled up at Jaskier’s feet, resting his head on the bard’s knees. He’d never seen him sleep in a chair, or have such a worried face even in sleep. He let him rest, dozing curled up against his legs until a soft hand smoothed his hair away from his face. He finger combed it, and put it up in a messy bun, laughing at the long tendrils that always fell out framing Lambert’s face. Jaskier pulled on the dark blue shirt from the day before, not willing to disturb his guest looking for his clean shirt.

Lambert’s things had been stacked in his little room, so after changing into a bright blue shirt and dark brown pants he was ready for the day. Lambert raided the garden behind the cottage, pleased to see a decent offering of root vegetables still available. He’d dug up an armload, as Jaskier had coaxed him outside in an effort to let the witcher sleep. He didn’t mind, getting to splash and play in the ocean, digging up shells and clams. Jaskier was pleased with his haul, kissing him soundly on the forehead.   
  
“My clever little otter. Little piglet, rooting around in the garden. You’ve been so patient, letting the man rest. He’ll heal faster if he sleeps my little one, but I think we’re plenty capable of quietly cooking lunch. Want to help me make a soup with all your findings?”   
  
It was always fun to help Jaskier cook. Lambert tried to coax Jaskier into singing a song for him, but the bard simply smiled and shook his head. “We don’t know if our guest would like that, songbird. Witchers tend to sleep lightly. Come, the soup is nearly ready and we’ll eat.” 

Lambert perked up and dropped his spoon in his bowl when he heard the groan. “I think he’s awake!”   
  
Jaskier held him in his chair. “Bouncy baby boy, you said he looked angry in the marketplace. He was just attacked after a hunt and probably hurts. Stay here until I find out if he’s… in a mood for company.”   
  
Lambert scowled and kicked the table. “He better be nice to you.”   
  
“Sweetling, we don’t aid someone for thanks. We help because it’s the right thing to do.” He kissed the top of his head, carrying a bowl of soup to the mystery witcher. 

He knocked softly before entering, bracing himself for interrogation and grouchy healing witcher. If experience has taught him anything, quiet and food were his best weapons to keep from getting his head bitten off. He did not expect what he found.   
  
Eskel had not managed to move very far at all, but looked up when he heard the knock. The tall drink of water from the day before walked in again. He was quite possibly even prettier than yesterday but Eskel wondered if part of that was just the novelty of having those eyes leaning over him while he was in a bed. Undressed. Oh shit.   
  
Coughing, Eskel flushed, shaking the thoughts out of his head. Not the time.   
  
“Oh! Darling no, don’t move! Wait, let me help you sit up. Some of those gashes on your stomach were deep and there are some on your back as well.” Strong soft hands slid around his chest, shifting him and lifting so he was sitting with his back to the headboard. Eskel did his best not to flail but he could not remember the last time someone so effortlessly lifted him that wasn’t also in the process of throwing him through a wall. Thank you, _Geralt._ _  
_ _  
_ “Oh, ah, you don’t need to.Thank you.”   
  
Blue eyes paused, picking up a bowl and sitting beside him on the bed. “Oh you can’t hardly move yet, don’t fret handsome, I-”   
  
“No. No, for yesterday. For, for this.” Eskel ran his hand over the stitches across his chest and stomach. “And for sending away the boys.” He smiled, softly. “I didn’t expect an angel to swoop in to save me.”   
  
Jaskier’s face flushed bright crimson, as he looked down into the bowl. “Ah, no. Really, you scared them off yourself with your,” he fluttered his hand about. “Igni. You know. That was very impressive. Good job on teaching your horse to lay down. What’s the big boy’s name? My little one was tending him, he’s so well behaved.”   
  
“Scorpion. I don’t know how I can repay you for your help. I can be out of your hair in a day or so, I just need to be able to-”   
  
“No!” Jaskier shook his head, pressing the bowl into Eskel’s one good hand. “No, you can stay with us until you’re healthy. None of this dragging yourself off half healed. You have help, and will accept it or I’ll… I’ll. I don’t know what I’ll do. But you won’t like it. Now, who did you have the contract with? You said there was a nest, so I will ride into town to have those brats take care of it since they think they’re so big and tough. Maybe there’s a baby wyvern in there that can _eat them_ . My son will stay here with you, just call if you need anything. Please don’t fret about your armor and weapons. They’re in the front room, and he won’t touch anything. I’ll ask him not to bother you while you sleep, you needn’t fret.”   
  
Eskel had a hard time keeping up with the speed with which blue eyes spoke, but he was so distracted by all of that boy that he’d slipped quietly out of the room and was gone before Eskel realized he still hadn’t gotten his name. “Fuck.”

The soup was good, however, and Eskel sipped it one handed before setting the bowl beside him and dozing off. He didn’t stir when the door slowly opened, small brown eyes peering in . Lambert watched the witcher sleeping before creeping in to steal the bowl. He replaced it with another bowl with a torn off chunk of bread and cheese, before slinking back out. Jaskier might scold him for bothering the man, but he seemed to think food would keep the enormous man happy and Lambert did not want him to yell at Jaskier. 

\---

Jaskier tossed another armful of hay in Scorpion’s stall. “Hey Scorpion! I know your name, finally. You’re a big beautiful boy just like your owner, aren’t you?” Smooching the enormous stallion’s nose, he saddled up Nightmare and took off into town. It was only a short ride into the village and he was in luck that the old woman he was looking for was in the tavern when he rode up. Her name was Hanna, and was a stern but delightful companion.

Thankfully, the boys who had accosted the witcher had done enough screaming in town about Jaskier’s threatening them that she didn’t require proof of either the wyverns or the witcher laid up in his cottage. She handed him the witcher’s pouch of coins, and accompanied him through the town as they chatted. By the time he was done, his own purse was notably lighter, but he had acquired hopefully enough food to last the three of them a couple more days. He even purchased a healing salve and an armful of linen bandages from a small healer’s shop. Hanna had bullied both the butcher and the farmer into carrying the supplies Jaskier had purchased from them, lashing them to Nightmare’s saddle. She made a show of needing Jaskier’s arm as they walked through the village back to the tavern where he kissed her cheek and thanked her for her help. She patted his cheek, promising to send some men to burn the corpses and the nest, telling him he was a very good sweet boy and to come back to the village any time he liked.   
  
\----   
  
Eskel startled awake when he heard a crash and thump, and small feet scampering around. Sounded like the boy dropped a bag of apples, maybe? There were footsteps outside, and he could hear the shifting noises of the horses. Eskel tensed and stretched minutely, cataloging his injuries again. The pain in his leg wasn’t quite so bright anymore, and with a Swallow he should be up on his feet in another day. Just as he was considering calling the boy when he noticed the bowl of food beside him. Kids were sometimes scared of him because of his face, so maybe it was easier for the boy to sneak. He didn’t want to scare the lad. He’d only seen him from a distance, the tiny body standing on the roof of the cottage, long hair caught by the wind of the sea. It was clear this wasn’t their home, just by the heavy musty smell of the room. A sweet chamomile and the palest hint of pine lingered on the bed, but was hard to scent. 

He didn’t have long to wait, as the beautiful man knocked softly before slipping inside the room again. He had an arm full of supplies and sat down next to Eskel. “Hello again handsome. Did you sleep alright? I was hoping to change some of the bandages, see how you were doing. I brought you an apple and some pastries but it looks like a little mouse brought you a snack. I hope he didn’t disturb your rest?” He watched as long fingers organized items on the bed between them. Bandages, a pot of salve, an apple. He dropped two small fruit tarts in the bowl that had been left on the bed earlier.  
  
Eskel smiled at the shy man before him, watching him scratch at his beard clearly unsure if his assistance was still welcome now that Eskel wasn’t actively dying. “Eskel. My name is Eskel, you don’t have to-”   
  
“Eskel darling it’d be truly my honor to help you, I just don’t want to overstep. Just let me know, whatever you need, you want. I’m here.” He spread his hands wide, and Eskel had quite a few ideas of things he wanted those hands to do but that really wasn’t what was being offered now, was it?   
  
“Ah. No, I’d. I’d appreciate the help. I’m pretty sure this arm is broken. Can you bring my potion case? I should have one in there that will help.”   
  
“Certainly. Before, or after we check your wounds?” 

  
“After is fine.” They worked quietly, Jaskier unwrapping his arms and the bandage around Eskel’s abdomen. Eskel helped, quietly giving pointers and helping hold ends before they were tucked in or knotted snug. They wrapped his abdomen back up with the long strips of sheets to help support his ribs. Eskel suspected they were cracked, and they'd heal fast. It was obvious Jaskier was doing his best to keep his fingers from touching Eskel unless necessary. Eskel was grateful for every scrape that was deemed bad enough to warrant a soft swipe of salve covered fingers. Jaskier bound his arm up before fashioning a sling out of some of the widest bandages. Eskel shuddered when the tips of the man’s fingers brushed the back of his neck when sliding the sling over his head. 

“Sorry,” Jaskier whispered, too close and quiet. Eskel marveled at the faint pine and chamomile scent of the man. He was here patching up the witcher again, and yet still didn’t smell of fear. Soft fingers touched his thigh and Eskel jumped. “Oh! Does that still hurt that much? I’m so sorry.”   
  
Eskel could not make words happen, so he just shook his head. The man lifted his leg gently with a hand under his knee as he unwound bandages that slowly revealed the mess the Wyvern’s tail had wrought. It was a brutal wound, probably went all the way to the bone. It went from the outside edge of the hip, splitting to cut diagonally across the meat of his thigh. One slice ending just above his knee, the other curved halfway around his thigh. It was red and angry, but neat stitching meant it was unlikely to scar too horribly.

Gentle hands cleaned it, and applied a thick coating of salve before lifting his leg again and wrapping it with soft, fresh bandages. Eskel watched quietly as the younger man focused on his task, still doing his best to avoid lingering touch. When that was done, he gracefully rose, gathering up the mess and taking it out of the room, returning with Eskel’s potion bag which he set on the table beside the bed. Eskel rummaged, grimacing at the stretch before finding his last Swallow and knocking it back, dropping the empty bottle back in the bag to deal with later. Seeing his charge done, Eskel's self appointed nurse tucked the blankets back around him, pressing the apple into his good hand. He sat at the end of the bed, watching, clearly having trouble deciding what to say. A deep breath, and he finally whispered, “I’m sorry, by the way. I didn’t know you came to this village. My little seagull out there wanted to go to the coast for his birthday, and we borrowed this cottage. I know you didn’t want to meet with us, so please. As soon as you are healed enough, we can leave the cottage in your care. I don’t want to impose.”  
  
Eskel was now completely confused. “You have only helped me? I am the imposition here, not you. What could you possibly have to apologize for?” He’d managed to make blue eyes sad, and he wasn’t entirely sure how, or why. He really didn't like the slightly sour scent of sadness on him.   
  
“Oh, I guess you didn’t know us... We sent you a letter to join us for dinner.”   
  
_Pankratz_ . Eskel suddenly remembered about the questions, the invitation, and why he’d declined. His eyes lit up. “Oh! You’re the professor! Pankratz. You had questions. I didn’t decline out of offense. I was in a hurry. Clearly. I think I hurried too much, though.” Eskel frowned down at his injuries, sure that if he had been in less of a rush he could’ve made fewer mistakes.   
  
However, the bright blue eyes of the professor crinkled. “Well if we’re going by titles alone! Dear Witcher, you are formally invited to sup with Professor Julian, and the little Viscount Pankratz.” He leaned over and whispered, “The kitchen staff here is terrible, however, I wouldn’t trust the stew.”   
  
Eskel threw his head back and laughed, holding his injured side, delighted at the sass from the beautiful man before him. 

  
\---   
  
Lambert had been laying on the beach when the sound of laughter drifted from the small cottage. He’d built a sand castle that was up to his knees, complete with a large moat. The turrets had sticks and small shells for windows. It had taken ages. It was starting to get cold, and he was pretty sure it was snowing.   
  
He was starving though, and Jaskier would soon be cooking. He ran to the small well at the back of the cottage, dragging in a bucket of water into the kitchen just as Jaskier was emerging from the Witcher’s room. He left the bedroom door open, and golden eyes caught him sneaking peeks around the furniture.   
  
He didn’t trust the witcher yet, but he seemed far less scary now, shirtless in Jaskier’s bed. His eyes twinkled and he waved when he caught Lambert peeking at him the second time, though Jaskier shooed him back outside with a towel. “Go play growly little bear cub you! Dinner will be soon. We’re going to have manners tonight. He accepted the formal invitation to dinner!” He kissed the top of Lambert’s head, shoving a chunk of cheese in his hand and pushed him back out the door.   
  
It was a fair trade, he thought. “Well. Okay. But I’m not getting changed.”   
  


\----

  
Soon, Jaskier helped the witcher to stand, leaving him privacy to take care of himself. He took the opportunity to move his own saddlebags to the main room so he wouldn't disturb the witcher when he wanted to change clothes later. After hearing his guest attempt walking, he hurried to offer support to help him to the dinner table. Eskel could hobble around the small room by leaning on the wall and furniture. However, leaning against a wall in just his smalls, a hand kept in front of his groin and blushing, it wasn’t hard for Jaskier to figure out the problem. Wasn't much of a problem, as Jaskier wouldn't mind the witcher wearing less. However he needed to be considerate and the witcher was off limits. 

The witcher’s trousers had needed to be cut off yesterday, one leg a complete loss anyhow. His second pair were no less thick, sturdy and tightly fitted. Jaskier dug through his own bags and offered the witcher his spare pair of pants, loose dark brown ones with a drawstring. The witcher blushed deeply, but allowed Jaskier to help him slide them up his legs. Tucking himself under the arm of the larger, taller man, Jaskier guided the witcher to the front room, settling him at the small feast before calling in Lambert by whistling out the front door.   
  
Small feet pounded across the roof, and a small face peered down over the edge, reaching down with one hand and then the other for Jaskier to catch and right him. He made a show of straightening the boy’s shirt, fussing over unruly hair and then bowed. “Young Viscount Pankratz, please honor us by joining us for supper. We have a beef stew with roasted turnips and bread brought fresh from the market today. Joining us will be the esteemed Sir Witcher Eskel.” 

Lambert laughed. Manners were much more fun when being a bit silly, and he bowed deeply. “It is a great honor to make your acquaintance sir Witcher. Our home is open to you, our table is yours.” He stumbled over the last of the welcome, Jaskier quietly prompting the rest for him to mimic.   
  
Eskel sketched a bow from where he was sitting, “All my thanks for the welcome to your table my lord. My deepest regrets that I am unable to greet you as befitting, my leg wound still ails me greatly. I am honored to enjoy this meal at your generosity with such wonderful company as the Professor.”   
  
Lambert was utterly delighted, as his last attempts to be formally polite ended with Jaskier’s attempted murder. He dashed to the table, sitting to Eskel’s right. The witcher tried not to show his surprise that the young boy held no fear or hesitation either at sitting so close to a witcher, or looking Eskel in the face. Dinner was a lighthearted affair, questions about wyverns and stories about dragons. The boy was insatiable asking questions that he informed Eskel stemmed from a small bestiary he had at home. The Professor spent most of the night quietly watching them both with big shining blue eyes and a soft smile.   
  
Eventually, Lambert fell asleep with his head on crossed arms on the table, having been listening intently to a story Eskel had been telling of a striga his brother, another witcher, had saved. It was better than a fairy tale listening to Eskel’s deep rumbling voice pitched soft and low, but the excitement and full stomach won out, and soon he was snoring.   
  
Jaskier carried him off to bed, returning for the witcher after. As the professor slid under Eskel’s arm to lift him to a standing position, his hair brushed under Eskels’ nose. The sweet chamomile and pine scent he recognized from the bed nearly staggered him. An arm went around his waist, the professor misunderstanding his weakened knees. “My apologies, I suppose we shouldn’t have kept you up so late when you’re still healing.”   
  
“This was one of the best nights I’ve spent in years, please don’t apologize. In fact, I suspect I should, as haven’t I stolen your bed?”   
  
The professor glanced up, eyes wide and shining in the dark. “It’s really no trouble. I’ll just curl up in the chair again tonight. I don’t mind.”   
  
He helped Eskel ready himself for the night, leaving him as much privacy as someone who could not stand assisted could have. It wasn’t until he’d finally bullied the witcher into the bed and covered him with a blanket did Eskel sleepily grab his hand. “You could stay. S’big enough.”   
  
Jaskier smiled, knowing far better than to climb in bed with a witcher again. He shut the door behind him. He shivered, shoving another log on the fire and deciding against the chair, went to squish in the small bed to curl around Lambert. It took so long to get over the hurt of the last heartbreak, Jaskier finally had someone to love him and be loved in return and for that, Jaskier would do anything to protect. Even from soft shining eyes and a gentle hand in the dark. 


	14. Lambert's story is Told

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here we earn our explicit rating. 
> 
> To skip it, you can stop reading at the *********. <3

Eskel woke up to a bitter chill in the middle of the night. Stretching, he found he could move his leg, but slowly. Standing on it still hurt, but with all the food and rest to help the potion work, he was healing quickly. Right now, however, he was dressed in loose linen trousers, no shirt, and could see his breath. Fuck.    
  
He crept slowly through the cottage, to find the fire in the main room down to embers. He stacked it high again, casting just a whisper of Igni with a flick of his hand. The fire blazed, immediately cutting the chill in the room. Eskel looked at the small stack of firewood. It would last plenty well to the night. Looking around the small cottage, he saw his saddlebags, armor, and swords stacked neatly in a corner. On top was a small pouch, which Eskel picked up. His payment for the wyverns? He hadn’t really thought of it, but it didn’t feel like the Professor had even taken any out for the bandages, or food. He hummed, tucking the pouch in his bags and pulling out his heavy winter cloak. It was thick felted wool, with a deep hood. He tucked it over his arm and slowly limped his way back towards the bedroom. 

He quietly opened the door to the other bedroom, frowning to see the professor asleep on top of the blankets, curled around a small lump underneath them. He could see dimly the slow exhalation and as he crept closer, a small shiver passed over the man. Eskel carefully laid his cloak down over them both and backed quietly out of the room to go meditate in front of the fire. 

It was hours later, the sun finally full up in the sky before he was startled into awareness by loud, shrieking giggles. He looked around to see his cloak folded beside him, and a bowl of oats with jam on top set close to the fire to stay warm. He ate it quickly, washing his bowl and stretching. He felt good. His arm hurt, and his leg was sore but he was capable of riding. He dug through his bag to get himself a change of clothes. If it was that cold last night he really needed to get moving and fast.    
  
A rolling thump above his head startled him, and he heard the professor scream.   
  
“LAMBERT!” 

He crashed out the door to find the professor digging though a snow drift off the side of the house. He shoved him aside, plunging his arms deep into the cold snow, gripping small arms and plucking him up out of the drift. The boy looked dazed, and the two men rushed him inside, dripping snow off the small boy’s cloak.    
  
“Give him please, give him to me.” Cold fingers plucked at the boy as Eskel quickly pulled off snow covered outer layers.    
  
“Julian. Get your clothes off.” The boy was shivering in Eskel’s arms, but soon they were both down to their smalls. Eskel wrapped them in his cloak still warm from being so close to the fireplace and shoved them down as he tossed another log, lighting it with another igni.    
  
“What is his name?” Big blue, frightened eyes stared up at him. “Julian. His name is Lambert?” Julian nodded, rocking the boy back and forth.    
  
“Julian, you need to let me check him. He’ll warm up fast with body heat. What happened? Did he slip on the roof?”    
  
Jaskier nodded, but pulled the blanket down to better show the boy’s face. Long dark hair was wild and loose, and Eskel carefully felt around for any lumps or gashes. He combed the boy’s hair back with his fingers, smoothing it back to cradle his face in his hands. It was like a punch in the gut. He bit his lip, trying to focus on making sure the boy was okay. The dark hair pulled back so sharply just drew attention to the widow’s peak, and sharp angles of his cheekbones and nose. It was as if he was looking 80 years in the past, a small familiar face cradled in his hands. “Lambert?”    
  
It was the same crinkled nose when annoyed, the boy tried to pull his face out of Eskel's hands to burrow into Julian.    
  
Eskel sat back on his heels, confused and shocked. This couldn’t be Lambert, but if it wasn’t him, it could be his son. Except witchers were sterile. “Julian, you said you have questions.”    
  
Julian nodded.    
  
“Was this… was this part of your questions?” The professor looked confused.  
  
"Lambert... can't remember? He has. I can show you, in Oxenfurt."  
  
Eskel took a deep breath. That snow drift outside was probably 4 feet deep on the side of the house, and snow was still falling. There was no way he was going to make it to Kaer Morhen by winter. He needed to get back to Oxenfurt and find Triss.    
  
“Alright. How deep was the snow out there?”    
  
“Not yet over my boots, but we were only going to play until you came around. I wanted to head back home before it got too deep and cold to be safe for him.”    
  
By this time Lambert had started wiggling and attempting to escape. “Hey, Lambert?”   
  
The boy looked at Eskel mulishly, wanting to be freed. “Follow my finger, then you can go get dressed. We need to leave, the cold air off the sea is going to make the snowfall fast and deep.”    
  
When Eskel was convinced the boy had just been cold and scared, he went into overdrive, packing up the boys and not being impressed at the cloaks Jaskier had brought. Jaskier helped clean and rewrap his leg, and get his shirt and armor on. He tried to bully Eskel into putting the sling back on. “No, Julian. I’m going to go saddle the horses. My arm is sore, but I can lift that much. If you want to help, keep the boy in here and warm until I have all the horses ready to go.”    
  
Jaskier spent the time cleaning and closing up the cottage, setting all the saddlebags just outside the door where Eskel took them and loaded them on to the horses. He managed to get a cup of hot tea and some meat and cheese fed to Lambert before Eskel came back in, shaking his cloak off and stomping the snow off his boots. He took the last of the bucket of water and poured it all over the hearth fire, poking and prodding to ensure it was out. “Everything ready to go?”    
  
Jaskier nodded, pulling the cloak tight around him.    
  
“Lambert, it’s too cold out right now to ride alone without proper winter gear. Can you ride with your dad?”    
  
They were both surprised, but nodded. “Which horse is sturdier?”    
  
It was Lambert who spoke up. “Nightmare. She isn't _just_ pretty. Essi’s horse is fast but always tires out before he catches up to Nightmare.”    
  
Eskel nodded, untying his cloak. “Julian, trade me.”    
  
“What? Why?” Julian fumbled his cloak off, handing it to Eskel.   
  
“Because mine’s warmer and bigger, will cover both of you. Let’s go.”    
  
Jaskier and Lambert were once again on Nightmare, who snorted and pawed at the snow, unhappy at being taken out of the warm stable. Essi’s horse was tied to the back of Scorpion’s saddle, but carried the saddlebags.    
  
Nudging the horses along, Eskel took them directly through the forests, intent on cutting as much travel time as possible. If this was Lambert, he needed to know yesterday. Triss was supposed to be in Oxenfurt by now, and could either fix him, or portal them to Kaer Morhen.    
  
Jaskier did his best to curl as closely into Lambert as he could, instructing the boy to hold the cloak tightly closed. They pushed the horses as fast as possible, and still by the time they reached Oxenfurt, Lambert and Jaskier both had pink cheeks and bright red noses. The horses were puffing and tired, but Eskel followed Jaskier to where he and Essi boarded their horses, instructing them to care for Scorpion as if he was his. Eskel stopped outside of main faculty housing. “Julian, I’ll -”   
  
“No you won’t.” Jaskier wrapped delicate fingers around Eskel’s elbow and pulled him along. “My place is plenty big enough, you needn’t attempt paying for an inn when you can stay with me”    
  
Eskel couldn’t find it in him to resist, the hot brand of Julian’s hand felt through all the layers straight to his gut. He simply nodded and followed.    
  
Once they reached the apartment, Jaskier headed out to have hot water sorted for baths and more firewood, while Lambert and Eskel took off cold, wet clothing. Eskel already had a merry fire burning with Lambert stretched out in front of it like a cat when Jaskier came back. He changed into black trousers and the darkest blue and gold shirt he’d ever seen, that made his eyes shine like stars.    
  
Eskel went to ask, but Jaskier held up a hand. “I have baths ordered, we’ll bathe, and eat, and then talking. I suspect Lambykins is not interested in participating. You know, little one, we plan to talk of you. All that I know. We wanted to ask a Witcher questions, and we have one who will answer. And you know you are welcome to join, and listen, but you do not have to.” A slim arm with a thumbs up was lifted, but the boy didn’t move or speak.  
  
Eskel looked as if to argue, but Jaskier held up a hand.   
  
“It will hold. Traveling is impossible, are you going to stay in Oxenfurt for the winter? I have classes to teach starting in two days, but you are welcome to stay with us if you like.” Jaskier leaned forward, eyes serious, reaching as if he wanted to lay a hand on his arm. Eskel desperately wanted him to do it.    
  
“I need to find if Triss is back in town, and I can plan my next steps from there.” Eskel glanced back at Lambert. Triss was a good start. Yenn was more powerful, but Triss had known Lambert longer. She might have insight.    
  
Jaskier leaned away, “Well. If you write a letter to her, we can give it to a messenger while we’re downstairs. Let’s get ourselves fed and cleaned.”

Triss was not in Oxenfurt. She was also not in Novigrad. The letter he’d left for her before he headed off on the hunt hadn’t been picked up, and Jaskier told Eskel over food that Triss left shortly after he first arrived but had said she’d be back by now and would call on them. There was no portal. Eskel could either risk the snow, or stay in Oxenfurt. The risk of death, or the risk of drowning in these big blue eyes.    
  
A few hours later Lambert was sent to bed having made it clear he did not want to participate in the discussion. Jaskier and Eskel sat on Julian’s wide, fat couch in front of the fire, knees touching, limbs loose. Jaskier's face was pink with wine when they finally talked. Jaskier started at the beginning of where he met Lambert, alone in the woods. He told him of Lambert’s reaction to aggression and men, his suspicions of past abuse. He told Eskel a heartbreaking story of a boy given to a witcher. Eskel knew this story. He saw the boy this story came from live and grow and become embittered. Jaskier told the story of adopting Lambert after finding he had no family. The paperwork filed that allowed for Lambert to have a life, a title, a home. He didn’t tell him about the mage or Ferrant, but he did tell him about nearly traveling to Cintra to see a friend only to turn around and head here when they heard of the invasion.    
  
Eskel was quiet, for a long time. If this was Lambert, as he suspected, as he knew, deep in his heart even as he tried to deny it… could he rip him from a life like this? He’d always hated being a witcher, and he was  _ happy _ with the professor. Lambert had a second chance here and now to be better, to be happy, to be loved. Everything he wanted, even if it meant ripping a chunk out of Eskel’s own heart. Eskel loved Lambert- his feral, sarcastic, and deeply loyal little brother. But Eskel loved this joyful, openly loving and sweet boy that his brother finally had the chance to be.    
  
It was enough to push him to tears, dropping the wine glass to the ground and covering his face. Deep sobs wracked him, as Julian climbed close, plucking gently with his fingers, asking permission. Eskel slid his hands into the offered warmth, wrapping his arms around the professor and burying his face in his neck as Jaskier petted his hair, rubbing his back and whispering soft assurances.    
  
As he calmed down, Jaskier was able to coax Eskel to his room, pulling off the last of his armor, taking off his boots and tucking him into the big, soft bed. This time, however, when soft eyes and a gentle hand begged him to stay, Jaskier couldn’t convince himself to say no.   
  
His name was an exhale on the witcher's lips, barely audible but the desperate, lost tone of his voice, Jaskier could only answer one way.   
  
"Julian?"  
  
" _Yes._ "   


****************  
  
  
Whether it was the excess of wine, the adrenaline of the day, or the simple hunger for a gentle touch, Julian melted into the heat of Eskel’s hands. The witcher slid the shirt up off of the bard, reveling in the wide planes of his shoulders, drawing his nose through the chest hair while Jaskier gripped Eskel’s shirt from his back, pulling it off and over carefully, to avoid jostling his arm. Eskel pulled him even closer to the bed, sliding his fingers in the laces of his trousers before pausing and waiting for a nod.    
  
Biting his lip, Jaskier nodded. He wasn’t sure if this was wise, but Eskel had so far been so incredibly kind. He was so beautiful, with his amber eyes and soft gentle smile. Jaskier couldn’t help but shudder at the spark of his hands sliding his trousers down until he stood bare before the witcher, shivering. Eskel pulled him gently under the blankets, stripping himself bare at the questioning tug of long fingers on the edge of his trousers.    
  
Eskel rolled, covering the beautiful man below him, falling into his lips, rolling their hips together, catching gasps and moans as they dripped from the bard’s lips. When one long lean leg was wrapped around his waist, Eskel buried his face in his lover’s neck, nibbling and sucking his way down, laving his tongue in the dip of his collarbone, kneading a hand in the thick, muscular thigh wrapped around him, never pausing in his slow rut.    
  
Jaskier stretched one long arm out, fingers just able to touch a pretty blue glass vial on the table beside the bed. At his growl of frustration, Eskel looked up and grinned, sliding him bodily closer, startling a squeak and then a giggle of success.    
  


He bit the witcher’s bottom lip, sucking it in before kissing him on the nose. “Are you going to prep me or do you like to watch?”   
  
Eskel plucked the vial out from long, dextrous fingers and  _ growled.  _ _  
_ _  
_ His fingers were not so delicate as the pretty professor’s, but they were skilled. He levered the bard’s leg back over his hip and set to work, with a single minded focus of taking this beautiful man apart. Mindful of the boy who slept in the other room, he did his best to kiss away the keens and moans. All too soon he stopped, voice rough and wrecked, pressing his forehead to the professor’s, deep gold staring into bright blue. “Are you  _ sure _ , gorgeous? We can stop, I won’t ask it of you.”   
  
It was Jaskier’s turn to growl, rolling the witcher onto his back. “Then I will ask it of you. Tell me no, Witcher. Tell me no, or I’ll ride you until the sun rises.”    
  
Eskel could say no such thing, instead arching his back, canting his hips, his hands never stopping, sliding up the bard’s thick, muscular legs, over his slender hips. They traveled through the deep fur of his chest, down his arms, before catching his hands and pulling him down into a filthy kiss as Jaskier sunk down, taking the witcher deep, slick and smooth. The witcher twice, caught and denied the bard release, before the slow, worshipful attention of the night crashed over them both, sated and sweaty, asleep long before the sun rose. 


	15. Winter in Oxenfurt

Eskel woke before the dawn, slipping out of the darkened bedroom. He cleaned up and dressed quietly, padding barefoot through the apartment. He’d nearly finished making oats for breakfast when small feet padded and sat down beside him.

“I could stab you. If you hurt him.”

“I’m not-”

“I stabbed the mage. I can stab you.”

Eskel turned his face away, trying not to let Lambert see him smile. “I don’t plan on hurting him, Lambert. He’s been good to you, hasn’t he? He’s my friend, and you’re my friend. I don’t hurt my friends.”

Frowning, Lambert complained “He used to cry in his sleep. He doesn’t, anymore. Like my nightmares. Hardly ever have nightmares anymore.”

“I’m sorry. You have nightmares again last night?” Eskel fretted, thinking back to the long line of a neck, back arched, and his name turned into a moan.

Lambert just shrugged and peered into the pot. “You make oats different.”

“Well, get a bowl. Let’s see if you like them.”

It wasn’t long before Jaskier came out, and slid a clattering longbow case on the table before sliding into a seat. “Have I been replaced, Lambert?”

“He had food, Jaskier! No one replaces you.” The boy threw himself at Jaskier. “His oats are good. Not as good as yours.”

Eskel was staring at the table, mind racing. “Jaskier? Julian?”

“Yes?” Jaskier squeezed his boy before whispering to him to fetch the armor.

“Geralt was-”

“I did as he asked, and took my shit shoveling out of his life. Don’t- that is not a conversation for right now.” Jaskier hissed, eyes flashing and angry.

Eskel nodded, and fetched a bowl of oats for Jaskier. Sliding it in front of him, “I apologize. For bringing it up. Later though, please?”

Jaskier’s eyes narrowed, but Lambert had already returned and flopped all too familiar armor on the table, taking Eskel’s breath away. His hands shook as he traced his fingers through the stitching, and over the leather straps. The ridiculous metal guards on the shoulders. Lambert unzipped the leather case, and there they were. Eskel would recognize those swords anywhere. “Can you tell me what happened, Lambert?”

“I don’t know. I remember a witcher came to take me away from my old home. Then I was in the woods. My stomach hurt so much, and that coat is _really heavy_. I guess the witcher gave me his necklace? It buzzes. I was hiding, and Jaskier found me.”

One thing at a time. “Okay. There’s quite a bit of time missing there. Do you have the necklace?” Lambert held it out in a small fist, and Eskel took it reverently.

“Eskel?” Jaskier touched his arm.

“I. I can’t be sure. I mean, I’m pretty sure but I really need Triss or Yenn, I think, to confirm. But Lambert, could you do something for me?”

Lambert narrowed his eyes. “Lambert, will you please wear this? And don’t take it off again. It’s… it’s very special.” Eskel held it out, before Lambert nodded. He dropped it over his head, carefully pulling his long hair up and over the chain.

“Alright, Lambert. You ought to find Essi today and thank her for borrowing her horse. When is your next drum lesson?”

“It was tomorrow, but I bet she’d give it to me today.” Lambert bounced off, crashing through the room pulling on boots and a coat. His hair was loose and wild, and he waved at them both before slinging a small drum over his shoulder and dashing out the door.

“He’s always been clever, that one.”

“Eskel, is he. That’s… that’s _his_ armor isn’t it.” Jaskier was pale, hands flat on the table.

“I’m pretty sure it is, yes. Lambert arrived in Kaer Morhen after Geralt and I. He was in a younger cohort. He’s our _baby brother_ … he’s been missing. He didn’t come home for winter, we thought him dead. We’ve been searching. Geralt and Vesemir as well, I mean. We’ve been _looking everywhere_ , Jaskier. Why wasn’t Geralt with you? He even asked me to look for you while I was searching. He used to talk about the bard who traveled with him.”

Jaskier scowled. “I haven’t seen Geralt in nearly two years. If I had known, if I had any idea, or hell, even just a way to contact him I would have, Eskel. I tried to ask a sorcerer about his missing memories but that didn’t go over well.”

Eskel laughed, “Lambert did say he stabbed one.”

They were quiet for a while, before Eskel pulled Lambert’s swords out. They were a little neglected and needed oiling, but there was no damage. Just like his armor, not damaged. Just left behind.

“Jaskier- I’m sorry. But I think it might be wise to take him to Kaer Morhen. Yenn is often there, and maybe Vesemir will know how to help. Would you bring him there? With me?”

The bard nodded. “For all I love him, if he’s your brother I can’t keep him from you. I’ll help. But this whole time, we’ve thought.” He steeled himself before continuing, “I thought the armor was from the witcher who saved him from his abuser, not that it was _his_.”

They were both quiet for a moment, before Eskel tried again, “Jaskier, I didn’t know you were Geralt’s-”

“I’m not his _anything_. Twenty two years, Eskel. He couldn’t even call me his friend, and then on that blasted mountain he tells me I’m the cause of all the pain in his life and wished for life to give him the blessing of taking me off his hands. In all his storytelling, did he tell you about the djinn, Eskel? Or just about how _annoying_ I am? Maybe how I’m such a _whore_.”

Eskel was shocked, but he thought back. Geralt had told him to look for a bright, foolish bard. A bard who wouldn’t ride a horse, an idiot who sang raunchy songs. “I’m sorry, Jaskier. Julian. I truly am. I know my brother can be harsh and hurtful, too often in his own head to see others. He was unkind to you. But if it helps at all, he knew he’d hurt your feelings, and even while we searched for Lambert he was looking for you. He meant to apologize, for his cruelty.”

Jaskier just slumped onto the table, face down. He really wasn’t good at holding on to anger. It had hurt. He’d loved the witcher, but had nothing in return for it but scorn, mockery, and once memorably, a drunken handjob after a particularly bountiful payday that left them both completely sauced. He’d hit his knees for the witcher that day, but they’d never spoken of it after.

“Which do you prefer, by the way? Jaskier, or Julian?”

“Ah, I really only use Julian here. It’s my given name. Professor Julian Alfred Pankratz, at your service. The continent calls me Jaskier, the bard.”

Eskel looked carefully at the bard before him. He looked exhausted and sad, blue eyes shining. “Julian, if I’m allowed?,” waiting for the nod, he continued, “If you were serious that I could stay for the winter, I’d greatly appreciate it. I can find a cot, I’m sure, but I don’t mind my bedroll. I don’t… I don’t regret last night, but I want to apologize. I think I got a little overwhelmed and emotional. It was wonderful, you are wonderful.”

Sitting up, Jaskier felt the strangest combination of relief and loss. “Eskel, darling, it was not a hardship. I’m sure Geralt bemoaned my habit of falling into beds and out of windows. I don’t expect you desire to keep me, no one ever does. Just. Thank you.” He stood, took Eskel’s face in his hands and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips before disappearing back into his room.

\----

Once Jaskier’s classes started back up, winter passed quickly. Eskel wasn’t used to wintering in a city, and since Jaskier’s winter classes were an accelerated higher level course Lambert was not encouraged to sneak in. So the boy spent some of the days showing the witcher around town. Eskel bought him heavier boots and a heavy cloak for their explorations, sometimes taking the horses out for exercise. Jaskier laughed, teasing Eskel about bribing Lambert to love him more. The soft smile when a pair of heavy dark blue boots and a matching heavy wool cloak were left folded outside of Jaskier’s bedroom door was worth every coin. Eskel would’ve happily paid double to see that smile again.

If Lambert woke early enough, he could watch Eskel going through forms in the deep snow in the courtyard, silent and graceful.

One early morning, Jaskier padded out beside Lambert, wrapping them both in a blanket as they watched the witcher attack unseen assailants in graceful and smooth movements, before stopping, turning, and repeating the pattern the other direction.

“He likes you.”

“I am not taking relationship advice from a 10 year old child.”

“If you did, you’d do something about your face, you’re all shaggy again.”

Jaskier sighed. “You’re not wrong. I guess I’ll trim it. Unless you think I should shave it? Do you want a haircut, the ends are a little ratty.” He pulled them away from the window to sit the boy in a chair before fetching his scissors.

“You’re not allowed to shave, that’d be weird. You have a beard, you’ve always had a beard.”

“Ah, I let it grow in before I met you little one.”

“Because you were sad?”

“Yes, I suppose. It’s hard to take care of yourself when you’re sad.” Jaskier took his time combing through it all before trimming the ends carefully. He braided it with quick, sure fingers, and pressed a kiss to the top of his head.

“Are you still sad?”

“Sweetheart, no. I haven’t been sad in awhile.”

“Sometimes you look sad. Sometimes Eskel looks sad, too.”

As if saying his name summoned him, Eskel came in, still shaking snow out of his hair. It was clear he was surprised to see them both up so early. “What’s going on?”

“Not much. He needed a trim, and was complaining about how shaggy I’ve gotten, so today is self care day!”

“I can trim yours, if you like.” Eskel offered quietly, looking anywhere but at Jaskier.

“Oh. That’s very sweet darling, but you don’t need to. I’m quite used to doing it myself, and I need to do something about the beard anyway. Lambert thinks I ought to keep it, but -”

“Julian, I’d like to take care of you.”

Jaskier stopped fussing with Lambert’s hair, releasing the child from the chair.

“Let him cut your hair, he can tell me more about monsters as he does.”

With that, Jaskier was outnumbered. It was a quiet affair, Eskel’s fingers carding through Jaskier’s hair, trimming the back and sides shorter, but leaving the top still a bit longer than he used to have. Lambert sat on the table top for a better view and gave directions, carving off so much hair Jaskier nearly felt bared. A single finger tipped Jaskier’s head up. “Shave? Or do you prefer to do it yourself?”

He swallowed, eyes wide. “Um. I wasn’t… planning on getting rid of the beard?”

“Not what I asked, Julian. Ah, Lambert. Go fetch me some of that hot water and a soft towel, if it’s self care day let’s make this fancy alright?”

Eskel dug in his saddlebags. Julian probably had his own razor, but Eskel knew his. He needed to. Slicing up your own facial scarring was not a good time. So Eskel and Lambert bullied Jaskier into a softer chair, Lambert watching carefully as Eskel taught him how to trim and shape a beard. “Do you think I’ll have a beard like this?”

“Oh, definitely. Darker, though, like your hair. Not this same color. Here, look. Once you’re done, beard oil.” Eskel couldn’t tell what Jaskier was thinking, but he couldn’t look away from those shining eyes as he slid his hand across Jaskier’s cheeks, working the oil in and cupping his face. “It’s why his beard is so soft, not scratchy.” One thumb traced gently over the bard’s bottom lip, before letting go to clean up after the hair cuts.

\----

Classes kept Jaskier busy nearly every day. He was either lecturing, planning future lectures, or writing notes on his student’s work. He’d lock himself in his room for hours. Lambert also had classes, with a tutoring schedule nowhere near as busy as Jaskier’s.

Eskel found himself a little adrift, an outsider to their life. They revolved around each other, with Jaskier’s colleagues and even students collecting Lambert regularly for class or practice, and more than once they just wanted to take their little mascot out for lunch. Lambert insisted on bringing Eskel along, where the students flirted with Eskel until Lambert scowled. One particularly pretty girl stopped where she had been sliding her hand up his arm as Eskel had been trying to subtly lean away from her.

“I’m sorry Lambiepie, is he your dad’s boyfriend?”

Eskel nearly choked on his ale, but Lambert complained. “No, you know better Ana,” Lambert launched into an impressive, albeit mocking, imitation of Jaskier. “ _I will have time for dating when you are older little one, you are my priority right now_. That’s why he wouldn’t even go with Essi to the festival, remember? She said he was a moron. He should have gone, he loves dancing.”

The group around table cackled, but one of the boys leaned over and whispered in Lambert’s ear, probably not realizing Eskel could hear. Or, possibly, he did and didn’t care. “Lamberjack, don’t worry. You aren’t holding him back. We just tease because we like him, and Emi has a crush, ok?”

Lambert nodded, and the tightness around his eyes relaxed. Eskel just smiled into his ale. He wasn’t sure why Geralt had painted the bard as so careless and stupid. Everything the bard did was focused on the comfort of someone else. It took the better part of a day in argument between them for Eskel to convince Jaskier that he really was just fine taking the borrowed cot, that he didn’t need to give up his bedroom.

On the days where Lambert had been busy, Eskel finally took the opportunity to follow Jaskier to class. He had sat in quite a few of the lectures, slipping in quietly in the back, curious about the Professor’s life. Every one Eskel had attended was packed solid. At first he was curious if it was truly just going to be stories about the White Wolf and exaggerated tales of heroism. That was the implication Geralt always gave when he described the bard’s nagging for information on hunts. Gory details to win him into beds, lies about heroics to net them more money.

Eskel was captivated by Julian’s passion and intelligence. This wasn’t a beginner course for baby bards- this was a high level songwriting course, with plenty of traveling bards who had returned for the winter. There were only a handful who would set out for the first time in spring. They took songs apart with the precision Eskel had seen Lambert use when making explosives. Rhyme, meter, alliteration, musical imagery. The math that went into a song that would stick in your head like glue. What made a song popular and memorable, what made a ballad legendary. The difference between songs to teach history, and songs meant to cheer up a crowd, and how to tweak one to fit the city or court they were currently in.

Eskel knew it was harder to write poetry and songs than it appeared- he loved reading them, and had a collection in his bedroom at Kaer Morhen. The library in the keep was heavily focused on bestiaries, monster lore, and history. But over the years, he brought home poetry and novels. He wondered vaguely if Jaskier would like his collection.

The work may not have been repairing old stone keep walls, but Jaskier came home exhausted most nights. And yet, every night, no matter how tired he was, Jaskier would either sing with or read to Lambert, listening to his stories. The soft kindness and love that radiated from the bard was soothing, and Eskel basked in the feeling of home even as he watched the two continue their life as it'd been long before he arrived to interrupt. As winter slowly waned, Eskel drew in on himself more and more uncertain that removing Lambert from this life was the right thing to do. Soon the roads would be clear and he'd have to choose.

It wasn’t until the first thaws of spring that Jaskier cornered Eskel in the courtyard, stopping him out of sight of their apartments with a hand on his chest. He gently pushed him into a small alcove, affording them a small bit of privacy.

“Eskel. Are you still wanting to go to Kaer Morhen? One of my students heard of a battle in Sodden. I think you should go talk to them. They said Triss was involved and may not have survived. I’m so sorry- wasn’t she a friend of yours? Apparently losses were great. I asked them to come by the apartments tonight to fetch you, if that’s okay?”

It was all Eskel could do to nod, shuddering. No more loss, there’s been so much loss lately. He didn’t even realize he’d closed his eyes until soft fingers slipped around his neck, pulling him down into a tight hug. Eskel didn’t know how long they stayed there, but when Jaskier finally let go, apologizing about having to go teach, Eskel did his best to look put together and just whispered, “ _Thank you_.”


	16. Birke

Eskel had just finished cleaning up after dinner when someone knocked at the apartment door. Jaskier had refused to leave his room, smudged in ink and muttering, grading final submissions from his students. Lambert glanced at Eskel, who nodded. “Please, if you don’t mind.”  
  
He opened the door to see one of the young, pretty bards who he knew took Jaskier’s winter class. She’d never been part of the group who liked to talk to him, so he didn’t know her that well. “Hello? Jaskier is busy. It’s nearly bedtime.”  
  
Her entire face managed to turn scarlet, which impressed Lambert. She was so pale, and so much of her chest was showing, that it looked like she was red from the tips of her hair all the way down to her toes. “I’m sorry, Lambert but I was here for Eskel? I thought he’d agreed-”  
  
Eskel had finished drying his hands and came over with a warm smile and put a hand on Lambert’s back. “Will you be alright, Lam? I’m going out awhile, and you know your dad is busy.”  
  
Oh. _Oh._ “I’ll be fine.” He pushed Eskel out the door and shut it firmly behind him, locking it in a fit of annoyance and stomped into Jaskier’s room. “Eskel’s on a date?”  
  
Jaskier looked up, confused. “A date? Oh, did Mara come pick him up? Oh yes, Lambert. I know, I thought them going out to talk would be better than here, I have so much left to do.”  
  
Lambert looked at the papers, huffed, and went to bed to sulk until he fell asleep.  
  
The next morning, Lambert was nowhere to be found. Eskel missed the boy eating breakfast with him, even noticed that he hadn’t watched him train from the window. Jaskier just shrugged. “The Birke festival is coming up. He likes to help with the decorations.”  
  
Birke. “You said today is your last class, right?”  
  
“Yes. I hand back all the papers and we go over any notes. Birke is the tomorrow, and then there’s two weeks before the next courses start up. Did you get any good information from Mara?”  
  
“Yes, and no. She was under the impression it was meant to be a date, which was a little embarrassing but she was a sweet girl. She told me about the battle, and the fourteen who died there. Drove back Nilfgaard. They say that both Yenn and Triss perished in an inferno cast down by the mages holding it, so. I am not sure who we will ask for help. I suppose we could contact Ban Ard, see if anyone is left that I know there.”  
  
Jaskier was quiet, then rested a hand on Eskel’s arm. “I’m sorry, for your loss. If the reports are true.”  
  
“You didn’t get on well with Yennefer, did you?”

“Ah. It’s hard to like someone who fucked the man you loved.”  
  
Eskel caught the past tense, and chewed his lip before deciding not to ask. Instead, he focused on a more intriguing prospect. “Birke?”  
  
“Oh, there will be a bonfire, lots of food and drink. Dancing, of course. There’s a stage, and the graduates play most of the night. You can go, if you like. Lambert loves festivals, so I usually take him to the beginning, but he gets tired early still. Did you decide what to do about Kaer Morhen?”  
  
“Well, if you and Lambert were up to it, I was hoping to leave as soon as possible. Maybe in three days? Will that give you enough time to wrap things up, or do you need more?”  
  
“Do I _need_ , Eskel, you know who I traveled with. My saddlebags are always half packed. We could leave today.”  
  
“I know who you traveled with, Julian. _But_ _I am not Geralt._ If you need a few days, I’m happy to wait for you. Now, I have an errand I need to attend, let me know what you decide. Do you need anything while I am out?”  
  
Jaskier’s brain had fizzled out on the firm, deep rumble of frustration that Eskel had lent to his words. He’s right. He wasn’t Geralt, and had never pushed Jaskier without cause. It was all he could do to stare with wide eyes, jaw slack. “Oh. Oh, no, but … thank you.”  
  


\----  
  
Eskel found Essi Daven’s apartment easily, it only took him 10 minutes of inquiries and bribing a stableboy with a copper. He knocked nervously, and stood in the door as she answered, nude, wrapped in a blanket.  
  
“Oh hello you enormous hunk of man meat what ever can my body do for you?” She purred at him, leaning forward at the door, giggling when Eskel blushed and stepped back. “Oh, Emi look, you’re right, he’s so shy!”  
  
The young bard from the breakfast peered around a door, apparently just as nude and far less modest. “Oh! Hi Eskel! One moment, alright?” The door shut, and after a few minutes of giggling, and the sound of clothing, the door opened again with Essi looking laviciously at him. “Bye Emi!”  
  
The young bard blushed madly as they squeezed past Eskel. “So, sir Witcher. What can I do for you?” She tugged him inside, a hand wrapped around his elbow.  
  
“I would appreciate it if you told me more about the Birke festival here, and possibly… help me with Lambert?”  
  
“Oh, the festival is just an unofficial thing. There’s no ceremony, it’s mostly the students celebrating the end of term. There’s a bonfire in the courtyard, the stage is filled with bards who argue all night about who plays. The college just pretends it’s not happening. You don’t need to worry about anything tricky. But what about Lambert?”  
  
“Lambert mentioned Jaskier wants to go dancing, but wouldn’t, for care of him. I could take him. For the night. And you could take Jaskier dancing?”  
  
Essi stared at this big, beautiful, stupid man. His face was so open and sweet, and Essi knew he was being sincere. “Eskel, darling, you know that Jaskier and I aren’t together?”  
  
Eskel looked at his hands, and fidgeted. “Essi, we’ve got a long journey to go on. It’s going to take weeks, it’s going to be hard camping and cold nights for them both. I just. I just thought you were able to give him a happy night of dancing before we go.”  
  
Sighing, Essi took his hand. “Eskel honey. Alright. I’ll help you give him a good night.”  
  
\-----  
  
Lambert was pissed off. First Eskel goes out with Mara. Now, Essi is kissing his cheek as he leaves her apartment. He wishes he had a rock to throw, but for that he’d have to climb back down out of his tree. 

  
He watches Eskel leave, and follows him. He follows him to the stables, watching as he brushes slips treats to Scorpion and Nightmare. He watches him as he buys lunch at a stand, and wanders around the marketplace. He talks to people, sometimes pointing at things. Finally the witcher buys flowers after talking to the merchant for far longer than Lambert liked, and then returns to their apartment. Boring. He’s hungry though, so he follows him inside. The apartment smells sweet, and it looks like Jaskier has been busy cooking. There’s trays of honeycakes, and small loaves of bread and a basket of cured meat and dried fruits. He’d heard them talking about leaving on a journey, and it looked like it’d be soon. He stole a honey cake and ate it, glaring at Eskel the entire time.  
  
\----  
  
Jaskier watched his son sulk, and watched Eskel curled up on his cot in the corner, fumbling through making crowns out of the pussywillow and forsythia. Eventually, he gently took a flower out of Eskel’s hands as he got frustrated. “Would you like some help? Lambert is very good at flower crowns, he usually makes them before we go.”  
  
Lambert refused to look at the witcher, but Jaskier poked him with a stem. “Please, my turtledove?”  
  
“Fine. But go away.”  
  
Jaskier smiled and left them to it, disappearing into his room. Lambert scooted close and hissed at Eskel. “Who am I making this crown for, Essi?”  
  
Eskel was surprised. “No, should I? I was trying to make them for you and your dad, but apparently I’m terrible at it.”  
  
“Jaskier? Why?”  
  
“So he can go dancing? I figured I can keep you company tonight, if you don’t mind.”  
  
Lambert was surprised. “You.. you aren’t going with Essi?” Eskel shook his head. “Mara?” He frowned and shook his head again. “No one?”  
  
“Well. I can hang out with you, if you like. I told you that you are my friend.”  
  
Whatever conclusion Lambert came to was acceptable, and they wound crowns together. Eskel had been a little over eager and ended up having enough for three. Lambert helped ensure the one for Jaskier was the prettiest, full of the bright yellow flowers.  
  
\----  
  
The next day was nerve wracking for Jaskier, who realized Lambert was planning something, with that sly cat grin and disappearing. He even willingly put on his nicest clothes, the beautiful red silks he’d bought for the disastrous dinner in Lettenhove. They were a little small now, but not too much. He showed up with a parcel poorly hidden behind his back, and dragged Eskel in his room where he heard quite a bit of soft arguing before Eskel trudged out to a victorious looking Lambert.  
  
It was after dinner, finally, that he found out what was going on, and Lambert dragged him into his bedroom, instructing him to put on his nicest clothes. The deep blue and gold silk doublet buttoned up over a soft gold chemise and his best black trousers. He put on the lovely blue boots that Eskel had brought him, and Lambert handed him the flower crown. “Eskel and I made them.”  
  
“Oh. This is for me? It’s lovely.”  
  
As he was deemed ready, Lambert finally let him leave the room only to find the witcher standing, fussing over the laces of a beautiful red shirt, with delicate gold stitching. The shirt was wide open, leaving the dip of his collarbones visible, and quite a bit of his strong, wide chest. “I am not convinced this shirt actually fits, Lambert. Are you s-”  
  
Eskel was speechless, looking at the bard before him. He could not understand how anyone would ever willingly look away from this man. The trousers showed off his long legs and strong thighs, narrow waist, and that ridiculous blue doublet made his shoulders look wide enough to sit on. His eyes shone an unearthly blue beneath that pale brown mop of hair, the bearded grin made him look positively rakish with the flower crown ever so slightly crooked.  
  
“Did Essi pick that shirt out, Lambert?” The child’s conniving made sense, finally. He picked up the flower crowns off the table, plopping one on Lambert’s head before approaching Eskel.  
  
“Darling, may I?” Eskel dipped his head down, for Jaskier to place the crown on, fixing his hair to be just so, and straightening the shirt. “Well. It looks like we are all dressed to party. Shall we go then, boys?” Jaskier swanned out the door, ready to enjoy the evening. 

\----

  
No matter how long he stays in cities, Eskel still has trouble with the sheer noise and smell. It was why he did his forms so early, and went out on the horses at every opportunity. He loved the library here, though he hadn’t managed to convince the librarians he wasn’t there to steal books.  
  
The festival was the worst kind of Oxenfurt, full of scents, too much alcohol and music everywhere. But he wouldn’t have traded it for anything tonight. He watched Jaskier and Lambert dance joyfully around the bonfire, play music on stage with borrowed instruments, and Lambert even disappeared at one point only to reappear with a face sticky from a candied apple, and a second in hand for Eskel. He shared his with Jaskier, who plucked offered slices from Eskel's fingers daintily.   
  
Too soon, though, the boy started to fade, and Eskel picked him up. Lambert wrapped his arms and legs around the witcher, falling asleep burying his face in the crook of his neck. He looked at Jaskier, who reached out, running a hand down Lambert’s back as Essi finally materialized. Eskel had expected her earlier. She kissed Jaskier on the cheek, and Eskel looked away as he stood to leave. Essi, however, plucked the boy firmly off Eskel, surprising him with the strength behind the small woman’s arms. Lambert only grumbled and wrapped himself back around Essi and fell back asleep. Then she slipped back through the crowd disappearing without a word, and Eskel was stunned.  
  
Jaskier smiled sadly at him. “Essi told me you wanted to babysit, but I think she rather thought she was being clever. You don’t have to stay with me, Eskel. I’m sure it’s loud for you, and I don’t mind staying alone.”  
  
“Jaskier, I just. I just thought you’d enjoy a night of dancing. I’m not terribly good at dancing, I thought. I thought you’d have fun with Essi.”  
  
“It seems Essi is the one having fun with us, darling. Well, if you are volunteering, may I at least have one dance, before you go?”  
  
“Julian, you can have as many dances as you want. Just. I am not very good at dancing.”  
  
They spent hours, dancing and laughing, and all Jaskier could see was the firelight glinting in amber eyes. Gentle hands held him, and the feet so graceful in combat did just fine learning new steps. When Jaskier finally yawned, Eskel guided them away slowly, back to their room. Halfway there he simply scooped the bard up and carried him sleeping, back to his bed. He pulled off the doublet and folded it over a chair, and left the boots by the foot of the bed before he tucked the blankets around the tired bard, risking a touch to his cheek. It had been a good night, though unexpected. He didn't even take his own boots off before he crashed on the small cot, asleep.


	17. Is anyone ever ready

Lambert crashed into the apartment, carrying a heavy bag of sweet fruit pastries. He set one on Eskel’s pillow, and scampered into Jaskier’s bedroom. “Wake up! They had apple tarts.” Jaskier groaned and blearily tried to hit the child with a pillow that was easily dodged. 

  
“It is too early you bright squawking cockerel why are you like this, no, get off of me child!” Jaskier grunted as Lambert heavily sat on Jaskier, already working on another pastry. He was covered in crumbs, and was covering the bed in crumbs. This, despite his complaints, had Jaskier laughing.  
  
Eskel followed the noise, still rumpled in the previous night’s clothing and leaned on the door frame, arms crossed with a small smile. “Thank you for the treat, Lambert.”  
  
“Want another? Essi bought me two dozen, said I could have as many as I wanted if I woke Jaskier up as soon as I got home.”  
  
“That’d be wonderful, however, I think a breakfast that crumbly is probably not the best in bed.” Eskel plucked the bag out of Lambert’s hand, catching the boy around the waist easily, hanging him upside down. Lambert dangled off of Eskel’s arm lazily, letting his hands drag. Eskel carried him out, mindful not to step on the boy’s hair as he swung him back and forth.  
  
Jaskier was tired, but climbed out of bed quickly, wanting to watch the brothers play. _Brothers._ Damn. Lambert didn’t remember Eskel, but seemed to have taken a shine to the gentle witcher regardless.  
  
“Julian?”  
  
“Hmm?”  
  
“Just looked like there was something on your mind.” Eskel swung Lambert sharply up, catching the squealing child under the arms before carefully setting him loose. He stepped closer to the bard, one hand reached out to gently touch his arm. It shook him out of his spiraling thoughts, and he offered the witcher a wan smile. 

“Just thinking, it’s really not important. We’ve got a lot to get done in a few days before we leave.”  
  
Eskel frowned, certain that wasn’t what the problem was but was willing to let it go. So he sat with Lambert at the table beckoning Jaskier to join them eating their treats.  
  
\----  
  
Jaskier had been trying to pack for hours. He pulled out their saddlebags from the closet, but got distracted staring at the potion bag. Eskel had been in and out all morning, gathering and stacking supplies on his little cot after asking Lambert to sort out his clothing to pack.  
  
He carried the dangerous bag that he and Lambert had kept safe for so long out to the table, but fell into his own mind staring at the open bag. He was lost in worries about Lambert as a witcher, Lambert as his son, Lambert needing these potions, building these bombs, and oh gods he needed Lambert far more than Lambert needed him. He hadn’t realized he was crying until large hands cupped his face, turning his eyes away from the bag. He hadn’t even heard him come in. Eskel brushed his tears away with his thumbs, quiet and contemplative.  
  
“You’re a good father, Julian. He loves you. The Lambert I knew, I think he would love you, too. You’re bright and kind and good.”  
  
It was a swift hit to his crumbling defenses, and Jaskier melted into a hug. He wrapped his arms around Eskel’s neck and clung pressing his face in Eskel’s neck, eyes damp and heart sore. Eskel just rubbed his arms up and down the bard’s sides, not wanting to move and not risking allowing himself to take his brother’s bard in his arms again. He breathed deeply, the bard’s pine and chamomile scent soured with the scent of his tears. Eventually, he shuddered, wiping his eyes with one arm but refusing to leave the hug.  
  
It was another long moment before Lambert bounded back in. “Jaskier, can I take my drum? Oh, are we hugging, or climbing on Eskel? Can we do both? I want a turn.” Without hesitation, Lambert climbed on the chair, to the table, and leapt onto Eskel’s back, Jaskier thoroughly distracted into helping the boy sit on the witcher’s shoulders. “Ha! I’m taller than both of you now.”  
  
He kicked a foot out at Jaskier. “I want my own bedroll, I’m big enough now.”  
  
Jaskier sniffled and nodded. “Anything you want, sweetness.”  
  
“Do we need a third horse?” Eskel glanced up at his passenger.  
  
“Naw. Wait, does this mean I can ride Scorpion with you sometimes?”  
  
Eskel glanced at Jaskier, who just raised his eyebrows in question himself. “I don’t see why not, whatever you like. Maybe give Nightmare a break from your wiggling.”  
  
Affronted, Lambert wiggled to be let down. “I sorted my clothes. Going outside now though okay? Bye.”  
  
Jaskier laughed, and fetched the pile of clothing the boy had left in his room. On top of a small pile of clothes was Lambert’s journal and small carved wooden figures, and the metal puzzle toy on top. He’s not seen any of these in months, and he hadn’t been sure if Lambert was still scribbling in his little book, but it charmed him that they were considered important enough to bring along. Jaskier noted the small pile of clothing to be left behind- his fine silks, and clothing just a bit too small. He put them in a drawer, not willing to be rid of them yet.  
  
With everything laid out, Eskel folded and repacked everything, judging Jaskier’s tent as newer and better, leaving his behind. He emptied Lambert’s old potion bag into his own, and repurposed the bag to carry all of the extra medical gear he’d purchased. Lambert didn’t seem much of an accident prone kid, but having human-safe potions around was always wise, and you could never have too many bandages. There was just room for a small case of “instrument care” belongings that Jaskier was protective of. Eskel wasn’t sure what care a lute or a drum would need, but the bag was so small he packed it in without hesitation. 

Soon, between the two bags everything was packed. Nightmare was the smaller horse, so she carried all the clothing, Lambert's few extra belongings, and Jaskier's songbook. She also carried half of the food supplies. Scorpion’s bags carried the tent, bedrolls, blankets, potion case and camping supplies. The other half of the food supplies, especially the heaviest items were also included. Eskel’s bags were far larger and heavier, and Jaskier questioned him. “Eskel, darling, that’s quite a lot for Scorpion to carry are you certain?”  
  
“Nightmare will be carrying you and Lambert most of the time. Scorpion is plenty strong, he was bred as a war horse. Besides, we’ve talked about this- what do I want you to do if we fall into danger?”  
  
“Run, I know, just-”  
  
“Julian, please? It makes me feel better, and won’t harm the horse.” The professor’s eyes shimmered, but he didn’t argue further. “If you are done, we can head out tomorrow. I just want to get one more thing from the market.”  
  
“Yes, I think we have everything. I’ll start cleaning the last bits here.”  
  
Eskel nodded, and headed out. Jaskier spent the afternoon fetching ingredients for a nice last meal, with soft baked buns and crispy fried chicken over a bed of seasoned rice. He changed sheets on all the beds, taking linens to be washed. He wasn’t sure how long he’d be away but it was always better to come home to a clean bed. When Eskel came back, with a small load of new clothes on top of other purchases, and a child on his back wearing a flower crown and waving a wooden sword.  
  
“Jas! Eskel bought us new clothes to wear for the ride. He said we did not not have enough properly sturdy clothes. I got to pick my shirt, I picked green. He picked blue for you, he said it matched your eyes?” Lambert yanked a bright blue shirt from the pile, and held it up to Jaskier’s face. “Huh. I mean, pretty close. Good job, Eskel. But if matching your eyes was a good thing why did you get this ugly brown, ugh. You could’ve had the gold one!”  
  
The child happily chattered on, completely ignoring the embarrassment of both adults. Jaskier busied himself finishing dinner, while Eskel packed another small parcel in his saddle bags. Lambert just sat pattering happily on his drum, humming.  
  
\---  
  
The next morning was cold and dreary, and Eskel saddled the horses himself, shooing Jaskier away to let the boy run wild a little bit longer. The witcher tried not to preen that both of them wore the new sturdy traveling clothes he’d purchased. Lambert suddenly looked so much older in his heavy black pants, emerald green shirt with a black doublet unbuttoned. Jaskier was in slim cut thick trousers that made his legs look miles long, with the beautiful blue shirt and a deeper blue doublet. Eskel did not miss that he still wore the boots he’d bought him over winter, but would never have admitted that he’d kept the color in mind when choosing the rest of his clothes.  
  
The witcher spent the night before fashioning a small belt for Lambert’s sword out of leather he’d purchased while they were out getting him his own bedroll. Jaskier had told him of the dagger they both carried in their boots while they traveled, and made the small wooden sword to amuse the boy. His plan worked, and Lambert was distracted and stopped fretting about the trip. If it was only that easy to protect the Professor, whose eyes shined with tears far too easily the last few days.  
  
He strapped Lambert’s swords beneath his saddlebags, with Lambert’s armor carefully folded and wrapped in the clever case Jaskier purchased. It was a good way to disguise them. The shoulder guards had been unbuckled and tucked inside the saddle bags separately. It’d been awhile since he wore his own armor, but he’d put it back on, the familiar weight of his swords at his back a comfort for the road. He rolled his cloak up and tied it on top of the bags. Nightmare was easier, with Jaskier’s custom additions to the saddlebags to clip the lute case to also afforded a place to hang Lambert’s small drum. Once the horses were ready, he led them out of the stables.  
  
He didn’t expect to see Lambert _and_ Jaskier in an enormous old tree in the courtyard. They were sitting on a large low branch, backs to him. He tied Nightmare to Scorpion, who he left ground tied and walked up to the pair. He slid a hand up Jaskier’s foot, grasping his ankle and giving a tug. “Ready to go?”  
  
Lambert stood on the branch, imperiously waving his new sword at Eskel. “I will only go if I get to ride with you today.”  
  
“Not much a hardship, kiddo. Go climb on the beastie and wait for me.”  
  
Jaskier smiled down at Eskel, who shifted in front of him, now with a hand on each ankle. “Are you ready for the trip, Julian?” The bard nodded, but didn’t move. “Are you sure? You don’t look it.”  
  
The bard turned and looked at the boy, who was now trying to untie Nightmare. “I don’t know if anyone is ever ready to lose their son, Eskel. But I’m doing my best.”  
  
Eskel slid his hands up under the bard’s thighs, lifting and sliding him off the branch and into his arms, where he held Julian close. “This isn’t goodbye. You aren’t going to lose him, and if he doesn’t need to be changed back I’m bringing you both back here.”  
  
“What?” Julian pushed Eskel back, staring at him. “What are you saying?”  
  
“Julian- I told you, I wanted Triss to check him, make sure that this curse, or spell, or whatever it is is _safe._ Make sure Lambert is safe. But if he can grow up again, be happy, without. Without everything? With you? I think we should give him that.”  
  
Every time, those eyes shined and that face lit up with so much glowing joy, Eskel wanted to drown in it. “I think, sweetheart, that should be a choice we give him when we know more. But thank you.” Jaskier pulled Eskel close, pressing their foreheads together, just breathing. " _Thank you."_


	18. Rinde

He just couldn’t help it. He and Lambert had worked so well as a team, camping and traveling for so long together. It had been easy, Lambert assuming the role of sweeping the campsite for rocks before laying out bedrolls, and brushing the horses down once the adults took their tack off. Scorpion learned quickly to duck his head down and Lambert would softly brush behind his ears and below his chin. Nightmare doted on the boy and a would lip at his hair, and swat him with her tail as he checked her hooves.    
  
Jaskier, however, was at a loss. He would startle and tense whenever Eskel attempted to set up the campfire at night, and refused to play his lute, much to Lambert’s annoyance. For all his patience and kindnesses, Jaskier still braced himself for the day he'd annoy the witcher too much. The daylight hours were easier, traveling and Lambert's incessant questions. Eskel always stopped them for a break midday. They would snack and he would spend a while sparring with Lambert and his little wooden sword.    
  
Darkness made things harder. With Jaskier tense, Eskel was uncertain. He wanted to believe it was still nerves over Kaer Morhen, but the way Jaskier had flinched from him the afternoon that Eskel pulled a fishing net out of his bag he couldn’t lie to himself. Eskel had meant to teach Lambert how to fish, but the fear in Jaskier’s eyes made him put it right back in the bag.    
  
Instead, he pulled out his snares and dragged Lambert off in the brush, teaching him how to set them. He’d expected to find it difficult for the boy to be quiet, but watching the small boy still, eyes bright and watching he was reminded of going on hunts with Lambert not so many years ago. Bright golden eyes, peering from the darkness, patient and waiting for the moment to pounce. He had been a wolf all the way through. But the cunning instilled in a childhood influenced by the brilliant and passionate bard made Eskel think that perhaps, Lambert may grow to be more dangerous yet.    
  
  
\-----   
  
  


The next morning as they saddled the horses for the day, Eskel realized they were quite close to a larger town. He knew there’d been a mage here a few years ago, and there was always the possibility of filling his dwindling coin purse. He knew the bard had coin, he'd insisted for paying for most of the supplies. But he couldn't shut off the part of his brain demanding he protect and care for them both. There could be a contract, and better, an inn. He didn’t mind washing in a stream, but the idea of a bath for the bard and the boy were enticing. He swung into the saddle, watching the pair beside him mount as well. “Jas? We’re near an inn tonight, I was thinking to stay? You can perform, if you like.”    
  
“Oh, you say the sweetest things, darling! That sounds divine, we’ll get a hot bath, Lambert. What do you think? Does our big beautiful witcher have a good idea?”    
  
Lambert just snorted. “I think he’s just saying you smell, Jas”. 

“Oh! Oh ho ho mine small, stinky child that! That is unkind, and unfair. We have all been traveling and well. Alright, maybe I do? I don’t know. Smell me child, what do I smell like?”    
  
“Farts, you smell like _farts_ , get off me!” Lambert pushed Jaskier back from where the bard had leaned, flopped over on top of Lambert in the saddle in front of him.    
  
“Eskel, tell the child he’s a lying liar I do not smell of  _ farts.  _ I smell of sunshine and flowers. _ ”  _ _   
_   
“Mmm. No, chamomile and pine.” Eskel said, before realizing what he admitted and hurried Scorpion ahead, not willing to see Jaskier’s reaction.    
  
They arrived in Rinde well before lunch, and Eskel was too embarrassed and distracted by his own slip of the tongue to realize at first that Jaskier had gone pale, eyes wide and breathing shallow. "Julian?" He pressed Scorpion beside Nightmare, pressing his leg against the bard.    
  
“Sorry. I just. Didn’t realize it was  _ Rinde.  _ Sorry, yes, let’s go.” The smile he plastered on his face was fake, but Eskel let him go without comment. When they found the inn, Julian gracefully hopped down, stopping Eskel with a hand on his calf. “I’ll get us a room, okay?” Lambert rummaged in the saddle bag, yanking out a small purse before scrambling down to follow.    
  
Eskel wasn’t sure what upset Jaskier, but he suspected Rinde was… wait,  _ Rinde?  _ Was that where the djinn was? Jaskier had never outright said the name of the town, but he couldn’t think of another that would upset him. Hopefully it would be okay. He led the horses to the stable, untacking them both before Lambert showed up again to help carry in the saddle bags. “Jas got a room, it’s a nice one. Two beds, and a bathtub  _ in the room _ . There’s even a fireplace, it looks like a whole apartment. I don’t think we’ve ever stayed in a room this nice. I want to jump on the bed.    
  
Julian was setting up lunch in the room. Eskel wasn’t sure how the bard always managed to make things happen so quickly- they were even already filling the bath tub set in front of the fireplace. “Lambert, sweetling, come eat before you bathe. We can go play in the tavern afterwards, what do you say?”    
  
Lambert set upon the bowl like a child starved, while Eskel waited for Jaskier to sit and join him. “I asked about contracts while setting up the room, Darling. Apparently there are two, I asked the barkeep to have the information for you. One is drowners, for sure, but he wouldn't say the other.    
  
“Oh. Thank you, Julian. Saves me asking around scaring people.” He gestured to his face.    
  
“Who’s scared of you? That’d be pretty stupid. I can beat you up with just my wooden sword.” Lambert scoffed, shoving his empty bowl away and prodding Eskel in the arm with the sword.    
  
Eskel growled menacingly at him, narrowing his eyes in mock anger which only made the boy laugh, and Jaskier choke on his ale. Well Eskel was  _ not _ expecting the heavy scent of arousal off the bard, inhaling deeply. It was a very good thing the bard couldn’t smell _his_.    
  
“Lambert, you’re done eating, go wash up. I’ll be over soon as I’m done to wash your hair.”    
  
Eskel hesitated before gathering the dishes to take back downstairs, enjoying the quiet domestic scene. It turned out to be a good score, as the contracts were a drowner’s nest and a wraith in the rubble of an old mayor’s house. The bartender had sent out for the mayor, who was polite if not a little scared of Eskel. He did his best to smile his softest smile that wouldn't twist his scars, and speak his questions quietly. With directions and explicit instructions to wait until morning if he was late, Eskel headed out.

He scouted out the nest, taking his time to find the best angle. It was a small but unfortunately placed nest that had taken over access to a beautiful little beach on the Pontar. The scuffle was messy, but fairly easy. He tossed one of Lambert’s bombs in the nest, mostly just to see if they were still good. The explosion took out the majority of them and Eskel quietly complimented his brother’s skill. The rest were dispatched easily. It was getting dark, though, so he headed over to the next site. 

The wraith was frustrating, another battle on terrible footing, and so much rubble around he couldn’t find the source. With darkness looming, he dug out and took one of Lambert’s Cat potions. Not quite as potent, and he wasn’t sure if it was that they’d sat for over a year, or Lambert’s intent. He still couldn’t find anything, having little information on the wraith itself. He resorted to simply burning everything, screaming his frustration of hours of searching out with a massive fireball of igni.

He burned  _ everything _ . Jaskier had told him, during a quiet talk in winter about the djinn, the wish, and Geralt’s indiscretion with Yenn. It had been a sad night, and it wasn't the first time Eskel dearly wanted to punch his brother in the face. It _was_ the first time that Eskel found himself thinking his brother didn't deserve the bard. The pain in those bright eyes would be Eskel’s fault now, not realizing he was taking him directly back to the place his life, his purpose, were nearly snuffed out. He drove the wraith back with his silver sword, channeling all his hatred into the spectre. He nearly died, and Eskel was pretty sure this was the house he nearly died in. Another rage fueled igni burned through the rubble, finally dispatching the wraith. He stood in a haze of smoke and char, panting, willing himself to calm before heading back to the inn. The moon wasn’t even high yet, and Eskel desperately needed an ale. Or five. 

Jaskier wasn’t playing in the tavern when he returned, which didn’t surprise Eskel. He took an ale up to the room with him, but was surprised to see that Lambert was already fast asleep on one bed, Julian was awake and curled up in the other. He dropped the sack with his trophies and his potion bag by the door, and shucked his armor slowly. Julian watched him quietly, as Eskel double checked his armor and cleaned and sharpened his sword. It didn’t take long, a century of habit made his post hunt ritual pared down to the most efficient. He climbed into the bath, not caring it had gone colder. He washed quickly, more concerned about speed than comfort. He scrubbed the soot and frustration and monster guts and self hate off of him before dressing in clean smalls and a soft pair of pants.    
  
Jaskier was still watching him, bright blue eyes glowing in the dim firelight. He’d watched these eyes across the campfire every night as they camped. It took everything in him to hold himself down, hold himself back, and here he was waiting in bed for him. Eskel knelt down next to the bed. “Julian, tell me what you need. If you just need space I don’t mind bunking with Lambert tonight. I doubt he’ll mind.”    
  
“No, please, Eskel. Would you just. Be here? I keep expecting to not be able to breathe anymore, I keep seeing his face before he screamed at me, I just.” Jaskier shuddered. “I tried to sleep but I just keep. I never wanted to come back to Rinde, I’m sorry-”   
  
Jaskier’s words tripped and fell and rushed out of his mouth, his eyes wide and afraid. Eskel was certain if he couldn’t calm the bard he’d pass out just from the hyperventilating. “Shove over, sweetheart it’s alright. Come on, let me hold you.”   
  
Eskel shoved the pillows together, laying back on the bed, before Jaskier plastered himself to his bare chest, head pressed listening to his slow, slow heartbeat. It felt rabbit fast to Eskel, with the bard cradled in one arm, pressed against him in a warm bed. It felt illicit, this wasn’t his to enjoy. But he stayed quiet, rubbing one hand on the bard’s back, calming that fluttering heartbeat before he finally soothed him to sleep.    
  
\----    
  
Jaskier woke to find Eskel’s heavy arm wrapped around him. He was on his back head pillowed on a strong arm. The larger man had curled around him in his sleep and Jaskier's very prominent erection was pressed down by the weight of Eskel's leg wrapped around him. 

He did his best not to giggle that the big man was such an octopus. He traced his fingers up the man’s arm, attempting to tickle him awake but all that happened was being crushed in the witcher's arms while he sleepily ground his gloriously hard morning wood against Jaskier’s hip. Well. That wouldn’t work. Jaskier pushed gently on the Witcher’s leg, only making himself have to bite back a moan as the leg reflexively pressed back against him. “ _ Eskel."  _ _   
_ _   
_ Bright eyes blinked open, then widened in shock before unwrapping himself from the bard. “Oh! Sorry. Didn’t mean to make you. Inappropriate, I know, I’m-”    
  
“Eskel, darling, shh. Don’t wake Lambert yet. Just. Before you run away, maybe, come here a moment?”    
  
Eskel’s brows furrowed, but he didn’t move away as Jaskier slid closer, and kissed him gently on the cheek, right in the middle of the scars. The move stunned him, brain frozen to a halt as Jaskier slid out of bed and left to dress and ready for the day. It wasn’t until the bard slipped out of the room, likely to return with breakfast, did a small voice startle Eskel out of his shock.   
  
“I saw him kiss you. Do I need to stab you?” Sleepy eyes blinked from below a pile of blankets.    
  
“Well. Maybe?”    
  
“Alright.”    
  
“Someone else might beat you to that, though.” At that, Lambert looked at him skeptically before climbing out of bed to dress as well.    
  
“You should probably get dressed too, yeah? What’s in the sack? Is that a drowner head, and can I see?   
  
Eskel scrubbed his hands over his face, and dressed quickly. “Yeah, Lam. You can see after you eat, and no, you will not touch it. Come here, your hair’s a mess. Let me tie it up. Another braid? Look at this, it's so long it's nearly to your bottom.” He tugged on the braid, making Lambert scowl.    
  
Eskel packed everything before Jaskier was back. Usually they didn’t rush in the mornings, but Eskel wanted to leave this town behind as quickly as possible. He’d pick up his pay on the way out of town. 


	19. Into Kaedwen

They traveled without much incident , Eskel taking contracts where he found them. Lambert and Jaskier would either wait in the campsite, or Jaskier would let Lambert loose around a town to play with the local children. Eskel found himself being far more cautious on his hunts, and only once had come back needing stitches. The kikimora had gotten a lucky swipe on his back. It wasn’t deep, but Jaskier sat him down in front of the campfire, enlisting Lambert to warm a pot of water, showing him how to make small, strong stitches that would help Eskel heal without excessive scarring. The witcher couldn’t help but shiver as the bard’s soft hands smoothed the salve over his skin before wrapping it.    
  
They were at the foot of the mountains, in a small village on the border of Kaedwen when they finally met real trouble. They arrived late, the village market empty and the streets full of drunks and prostitutes. It was clearly on a trade route between the mountain pass, but the village wasn’t prosperous for it. Eskel had been through here many times, though rarely stopped. The village was unfriendly and untrusting, but they were getting low on supplies and Lambert could use a bed. At first the innkeep refused, but they managed to get a room in the inn when Lambert burst into tears when told they couldn’t have one. 

Eskel picked the boy up, whispering quietly in his ear so the innkeep wouldn't hear, “You are a manipulative little shit, but thank you.” Lambert lifted his head slightly, so the witcher could see the grin on the boy’s face before continuing to cry noisily. 

“Ah, ah, shush the child there. What is he, seven? Eight? Can’t kick the boy out, I guess. But none of that witcher garbage in my inn. You keep your bloodied heads out, and no fighting in my bar!”    
  
Jaskier burst in, having gotten the horses settled for the night. He saw Lambert clinging to Eskel who caught his eye and shook his head. Okay. The feral pair were up to some sort of mischief, so he just waited until Eskel came over with a key, leaning down close to whisper in Jaskier’s ear. “Unfriendly place. Not sure if they’ll take to your songs, but we ought not stay long. Lambert managed to cry his way into a room at least. Would you please get food? I’m pretty sure they’ll spit in it if I ask.”    
  
The bard nodded, sidling up to the tavern and ordering an ale. He chattered and did his best to distract from the witcher and child, making them laugh and charming them to the best of his ability before ordering a large try to take up of meats, cheeses, three bowls of stew, two ales and a wonderful smelling honeyed drink the barmaid sent up for Lambert, feeling sorry he’d been so upset. As Jaskier carried the tray upstairs he didn’t notice four pairs of eyes following him.    
  
He knocked on the room door with his foot, Lambert angrily flinging it open. “Jas tell him he’s STUPID.”    
  
The bard stood at the door, heavy tray in hand, very confused. “Can we… talk about it over food?” Lambert stomped over to the table, throwing himself in a chair. “Eskel?”    
  
The witcher was looking  _ very  _ uncomfortable, and waved to the lone bed in the room. Ah. Jaskier stuffed food in front of the boy who tore into it viciously, glaring at Eskel with every bite. Jaskier sat down, waving Eskel to come join them. “Eskel, come eat? I had to charm that hateful fuck downstairs for far too long to get the food. Come eat while it’s warm.”   
  
“I bet he wants to  _ eat _ on the floor  _ too. _ ” Lambert hissed.    
  
Eskel cringed, but he came and sat with them, hanging his armor and swords off the other chair. He took a bowl, but refused to look up as he said quietly, “Jules, Lambert is upset with me because I said I would sleep on the floor.”    
  
“Well why would you, darling? Bed’s quite well big enough, and the little mouse and I have snuggled down on much smaller ones. We’re just fine squished up close. There’s room for you, no reason to suffer. However, Lambert. We have discussed this before, you cannot bully someone into something, even if you think it’s better for them. If he is more comfortable on the floor, let him be.”    
  
Lambert’s eyes widened. “Oh. I- I’m sorry. Whatever makes you comfortable you are allowed to make decisions about your own body.” It was clearly a line he was parroting from Julian, but it made the witcher smile nonetheless.    
  
“Don’t worry about it, Lam. I was concerned about your comfort, not mine. I’ve long since learned to sleep anywhere. I’ve been camping outside and on the ground for nearly 100 years now, the floor of an inn isn’t a hardship.”   
  
“You are  _ super old. _ ” At that, Julian managed to choke on his ale, coughing and sputtering as it went out of his nose. “You’re more than  _ twice _ Jaskier’s age.”   
  
Eskel stopped. Julian had traveled with Geralt for how long? Had to be at least 20 years. And the bard didn’t look nearly 25. Eskel studied his face, with no sign of wrinkles, no grey. The bard had to be at least 40. Julian wrinkled his nose at his inspection, and threw a hunk of cheese at Eskel, who caught it in his mouth before winking. Maybe Triss or Vesemir will have some insight on this, too. The bard was terribly intriguing.    
  


They did end up sharing the bed, falling asleep with Julian curled around Lambert, back to back with Eskel. Eskel woke up to see Lambert asleep flat on his stomach taking up most of the bed. But the real problem was how he’d found himself wrapped around Julian again. He had one hand up the bard's shirt, fingers tucked under his side, with his erection pressed firmly against the cleft of the bard's ass. He resisted the urge to squeeze the bard closer to him. He could be strong, if he had to. But he was too weak to deny himself burying his nose in Julian’s hair, smelling the sweet chamomile and pine before slipping softly out of the bed to go get ready for the day. If he looked back, he would have seen sleepy blue eyes watching him. 

They set out early, Lambert declaring before they’d even left the room he was going to ride Scorpion. Eskel didn’t even check the notice board, just led the horse on foot through the market, Jaskier following riding Nightmare. He picked up a variety of supplies, scowling when Julian pressed coins into his palm. “Please, Eskel. Let me contribute?”   
  
He tied a new bag of oats to Scorpion, and bought a heavy bag full of apricots that he handed to Lambert. More vegetables and cured meats, nuts and even a bottle of wine that he handed to Jaskier with a wink. Jaskier sent him back for a wine skin, and Eskel brought back two, making Julian laugh. After all that, they took off.    
  
They headed north, through the Kaedweni forests until just before dusk. Eskel found them a campsite in a clearing with a view up the mountains behind them. He tied the horses out, and Lambert delighted in the thick soft grass of the foothills, rolling around obnoxiously. Traveling along the river was useful, but the thick soft grass of the forest clearing was far more comfortable.    
  
“We’re deep enough I think I can get us a deer. Hunting will probably take me a little longer tonight, Jules are you okay finishing setting up?” Jaskier nodded. He was out of practice, spoiled by months of Eskel’s igni, but after a little cursing he got a fire lit, and sent Lambert to the stream to fetch water before it got dark.    
  
Jaskier pulled his lute out, tuning it and playing softly. He was so enchanted with the beauty of their small, flower dotted clearing that he didn’t realize at first that Lambert’s return footsteps were far too heavy.    
  
“Look, boys. The freak had a boy and little songbird.”   
  
Jaskier stood about to yell as a rough hand covered his mouth and the sharp bite of steel at his throat made him drop his lute. He panicked, thrashing, unable to see Lambert’s small form. One of the bandits dropped a lump on a bedroll, bleeding and unconscious.    
  
Jaskier  _ screamed _ through the man’s hands as the leader snapped, “Berin, Shut him up before the mutant hears him.” A heavy cloth was wrapped around his mouth, tying his mouth tightly shut. They tied his wrists behind his back, and ankles after he lashed out and kicked the ugliest one in the knee. Their leader cooing over the sharp, pretty blade Jaskier always kept in his boot. 

  
“Boys, the pretty songbird has teeth. You think he’s good for anything?” He pushed Jaskier over so his face hit the ground, rubbing a hand over Jaskier’s ass, laughing as he fought the bonds.    
  
“Ah, Zarek, no other reason for a witcher to travel with one, right. Especially one so pretty? I saw him, whispering in that bard’s ear.” He limped over and sat on the ground in front of a still unmoving Lambert. A fourth member came up behind the apparent leader.    
  
“No movement. He’s probably off hunting, if you assholes want playtime hurry the fuck up. I’m gonna see if they’ve got anything worth taking in the bags.” He stalked off, contenting himself to dig through the saddle bags that were still left on the edge of the clearing by the horses. 

  
The one called Zarek yanked Jaskier up, shoving him into the other’s arms and looked Jaskier over before punching him heavily in the stomach. Look, we got a monsterfucker. You think he likes it up the ass? Maybe he just sucks his cock. I’ve heard those witchers have monsterlike dicks, barbs and spines on em.” The man holding Jaskier’s arms pressed his erection into his back, making Jaskier do his best to squirm away. All he could focus on was keeping their attention on him so maybe Eskel could return before they turned on Lambert.    
  
Lambert’s hair was long and loose, which was probably why no one realized when he came around. When he staggered up, however, with the blood in his teeth and the tiny, wicked dagger Jaskier gave him to keep in his boot he looked terrifying. A tiny, feral child that anyone could have mistaken for fae. All the training days with Eskel rolled into one vicious moment where he rose unsteadily behind the man who had sat in front of him, yanked his head back by his hair and slit his throat.    
  
He hissed at the other two men, Zarek stunned at the boy’s attack. The leader shoved Jaskier down on the ground, a foot on his chest. “ _ Get the boy.”  _ _  
_ _  
_ Hitting the ground knocked the breath out of him, and he did his best to scream around the gag. Lambert spooked at the lunge of the bandit that had been holding Jaskier, screamed in rage, and took off into the forest.    
  
\-----   
  
Eskel hadn’t found a deer, but he was pretty pleased to have found a turkey. It'd go really nicely with the apricots. He was walking back, the bird under one arm before he heard the first scream. He bolted towards the clearing, dropping the bird as he saw Lambert crashing into the woods to his left. Eskel took off after the man chasing him, not nearly as silent as he could be, but this crashing idiot would not have noticed an army behind him.    
  
However, the bandit was fast- he caught Lambert’s hair and and yanked him back, the boy screaming and fighting. The man caught Lambert’s hand in his free hand, which helpfully left him wide open for Eskel to slice a dagger deep across his throat, growling at the garbage who dared to put his hands on Lambert. 

  
Lambert pitched forward, sobbing and gasping as Eskel wiped the blood off the dagger using the bandit’s shirt. “Are you alright? How many more were there?” Lambert turned and flung himself in Eskel’s arms, covering them both in blood. “How  _ many _ ? ”    
  
“Three more”    
  
“I left a turkey over there. Go get it, keep it until I call you. Be  _ silent.”  _ _  
_ _  
_ Lambert nodded, creeping towards the turkey and hiding in a bush at the edge of the clearing, watching and waiting. Eskel circled around, quiet and cautious. They were on edge with Lambert bolting, and were watching for movement in the trees. Eskel wished he would’ve taken Cat, but it was wasteful when just hunting for dinner. He slipped beside Scorpion, patting the big horse's side. He bent and crept underneath the horse before snatching the man standing over the saddle bags. His big hand went over his mouth and his dagger went up in his side as he bent and dragged the man back underneath Scorpion, tossing the corpse aside. This was going to be annoying to clean up. He patted the horse again before moving on.   
  
Jaskier was on the other side of the clearing, and all Eskel could focus on was the overpowering scent of his fear and his blood. He walked around the clearing, staying to the shadows as he watched and listened to the man harassing him. They’d beaten him, and now he was using a knife on him. Stalking out of the darkness into the clearing, rage finally reaching the boiling point, Eskel’s deep booming voice startled both men. “Do _not_ touch him again. He is  _ mine.” _ _  
_ _  
_ Jaskier pressed himself as far back into the tree as he could, avoiding the touch and leering gaze of the man. He pressed Jaskier’s own dagger against his throat. “Fuck off,  _ freak.”  _ _  
_ _  
_ “You do not want to draw his blood. Walk away. Now. Your friends are dead, and you will be as well if you do not take your hands off of  _ my bard.”  _ Eskel stalked closer, golden eyes reflecting the firelight, looking every inch the predator he was.  _  
_ _  
_ “Yours? He’s just a little whore, and you know it.” He licked a long, flat stripe up Jaskier’s face, grinning as he slid his hand down the bard’s chest. Eskel flicked his eyes to Jaskier’s, and in one smooth movement, he threw his dagger. His eyes never left Jaskier's as he strode forward, catching the bard’s face in his hands, wiping the blood and spit off of his face and pulling the gag off. Julian immediately leaned in to catch Eskel in a soft desperate, but chaste, kiss. Eskel gasped into Julian’s mouth before pulling back and inspecting the bard. He ran his hands all over, leaning Jaskier against the tree before retrieving both daggers. He cleaned his dagger on the bandit’s pant leg, and tucked Jaskier’s dagger back in his boot. He used his own dagger to carefully slice Jaskier’s bonds, first his ankles, then carefully cradling both of the bard's hands in one of his own as he sliced through the rope. He replaced his dagger in its sheath, and swung Jaskier up into his arms, holding him close and carrying him back to the fire. Jaskier clung tightly, face pressed into Eskel’s neck. All Eskel could smell was blood and tears.    
  
“Lambert!” The boy popped up out of the bush, dragging a mostly plucked turkey behind him. He must've been working on it while Eskel hunted the bandits. “Child why are you dragging dinner?!”   
  
“Because it’s fucking heavy!”   
  
“I’m busy carrying a  _ whole ass man.” _ _  
_ _  
_ “You  _ like _ that man, I do not  _ like  _ this turkey!”   
  
“You don’t have to like it to eat it!”    
  
Jaskier couldn’t hold back the helpless laughter that bubbled up out of him, and by the time Eskel laid him back down on a bedroll, there were tears from his giggling at the two boys bickering. Lambert leapt onto Jaskier, clinging to him. “Are you ok?”   
  
“Yes I’m okay now my little badger, but are you? Let me see, you’re bleeding”   
  
Eskel built the campfire up higher, watching Jaskier doting on the boy. It looked like one of them snuck up and knocked him out with a hit to the head, but he would be alright. After Eskel started the turkey cooking, he told Lambert to keep an eye on things. Eskel gathered the bodies of the bandits, putting them in a far corner of the clearing, away from the trees. They didn’t have much on them, but he emptied their coin purses, took two rings, some snare wire and their daggers. Most of it was crap but he could sell it for coin.    
  
After they were piled, Eskel burned them. He unleashed all his anger and rage and frustration and burned them to ash. Vesemir would have called it wasteful, that piling firewood on to keep the flame was better but Eskel needed the outlet. They drew Lambert’s blood and put their hands on Julian. Eskel wasn’t sure which one was worse, and that scared him.    
  
Once he was done, he called Lambert to him, and they disappeared around the bend to wash the blood off the boy. He was covered in it, and Eskel asked him quietly what happened as they washed. “They hit me, and when I woke up they were tying up Jaskier, going to hurt him. So I cut one’s throat, and ran for you.”    
  
“Good job, Lam. You did fantastic, you protected Jaskier. You did absolutely everything right. Now let’s hurry back, I didn’t want to leave him but I think seeing you so dirty would upset him more.”    
  
“Carry me?”    
  
Eskel let him climb on his back, and ran back to Jaskier, bouncing the laughing boy on his back. The bard had pulled the meat away from the fire and managed to wash his own face and hands by the time they returned. Eskel was pleased to see the bard relaxed and nibbling on an apricot, already into one of the wineskins. The meal was a quiet one, Jaskier putting his lute back in the case in favor of snuggling a still nervous Lambert. Eskel managed to steal away the wine before the bard would regret it in the morning, however, and he counted that a win. As the fire died down, Lambert fell asleep curled up with Jaskier, ignoring his own bedroll. Eskel knelt at Jaskier's head, watching over them and meditated through the night.    



	20. Ard Carraigh

Lambert woke first, which was pretty unusual. He looked around, seeing the horses still dozing where they were tied out, the big charred pile that was the bandits. He twisted around to see Jaskier passed out on his back, one hand flung up over his head, fingers laced through Eskel’s. He was just kneeling on the ground by their heads. Lambert carefully climbed out not to wake Jaskier and snuck closer to Eskel. He was kneeling, but he looked relaxed, his hands palm up relaxed above his knees, Jaskier’s fingers linked through one hand. He hummed, and decided to ignore them and attempt to make breakfast himself.    
  
Eskel opened his eyes, shaking himself into full awareness knowing Lambert was finally awake. He didn’t want to move yet, Jaskier had rolled over in the middle of the night, reaching for him. He refused to sleep, still too unnerved he had missed the bandits trailing them. So he watched Lambert until he was nearly done preparing the oats “Want me to relight the fire?” The boy startled, but nodded, waving the pot.    
  
“I think I measured right.”   
  
“Ah, I’m sure it’ll be fine. You’ve helped me make it enough mornings. You know, there are only a few more towns and one big city on the way to the keep. Is there anything you want to get before we head up the mountain? Or any ideas for things Julian might like?”   
  
“Like things to stay? Jas has always bought me a few new books when we are going to stay someplace for awhile. Maybe can I have a new journal? Mine’s nearly full.”    
  
“Anything you like, Lam. There is a big library there, and I have some books that your dad might like, but I suspect we should buy you something you’ll enjoy in one of the cities. Do you have a favorite kind of storybook?”   
  
Lambert told him about the books Jaskier had read to him in Lettenhove, and in Oxenfurt before Eskel had found them. Eskel told him about all the poetry and novels he had hidden in his room, and said he would be happy to share them with the professor if he wanted.    
  
At that, Jaskier squeezed his fingers. “I’d love to see what kind of books you deem worthy of carrying up the mountain.”    
  
Eskel flushed and looked away. Twice now, he’d been so distracted that he didn’t notice things he should have. “How long have you been awake?”    
  
“Ah, not long. Lambert telling you about terrorizing the Oxenfurt librarians?”    
  
“Well, I offered to stop in Ard Carraigh before we head up the mountain to get Lambert books he might enjoy. Is there anything you need before we head up? Just planning whether we cross the river here, or follow it.”    
  
“I think. I think I’d like the more scenic route, if possible. But stopping is probably wise, do you know for sure if your mage friend will be at the keep?”   
  
Eskel nodded, and peering in the pot, declared the oats ready. They ate in silence before getting ready for the day, everyone ready to meet their adventure head on. Lambert rode back with Julian, but begged for a race as soon as they came upon a wide flat road that led to Buki. Nightmare flicked her tail as she ran, fleet footed and nimble, Lambert cackling and whooping her on. Scorpion was a steady thunder behind her, his smooth rocking canter was utterly unflappable. They rode into town, and checked the notice boards to find no work, but a note from Vesemir left for Lambert. He took it down, folded it carefully, and put it in his pocket.    
  
They moved on, crossing the river in a shallow bend, before a water hag came crashing up, spooking Nightmare. “Run!” Eskel pointed with his sword towards Ard Carraigh and turned Scorpion around. He leaped off the stallion before swatting his hindquarters, sending the big horse after Nightmare. They crashed away through the brush, Nightmare still screaming.    
  
Eskel couldn’t worry about them right now- where there were water hags was usually a drowner nest. All he had on him was one vial of swallow, but that’d be good enough. He tossed it back, grimacing at the taste. He pulled his silver sword out, circling the hag and taking swipes at her, spinning away when she dove back under the soggy ground. Twice she nearly took a chunk out of him from behind, his quick fingers with Quen the only thing that saved him. It was a hard fight, made harder by the fight gaining the drowner's attention. Finally he managed to sink the sword through her, casting igni just out of spite. As the swamp water bubbled under the heat a drowner managed to catch a bite of his thigh.    
  
The insult of it had him slicing through the rest quickly, drowners far less agile and far more susceptible to a well placed aard. When it was finally cleared he glared down at his leg. “ _ Fuck.”  _ _  
_ _  
_ He whistled loud and long for Scorpion, and started limping after him.    
  
\----    
  
When Nightmare spooked, Lambert clung on to her mane, as she took off in a run with Eskel yelling behind them. Suddenly Scorpion was there, nipping at her flank. She lashed out, kicking at him and suddenly Jaskier was gone. Lambert screamed, clinging and yanking on Nightmare, trying to stop her, turn her back, but when he finally got the horses stopped, blowing and stomping, he was alone.    
  
He knew Scorpion was better behaved than Nightmare, so he climbed over onto the big stallion, pulling Nightmare’s reins up over her head and tied her to one of the rings on Scorpion’s saddle. He tried to nudge Scorpion back the way they came but the stallion was stubborn and refused for a while before finally trudging back the way they came.    
  
“Jaskierrrrr”    
  
Lambert called, as Scorpion unwillingly trudged forward. Nightmare was finally calmed, and walked beside, but he still didn’t trust her. He kept calling for Jaskier, unsure how he was supposed to find anyone in the forest.    
  
\---   
  
Jaskier hit the ground hard, knocking the wind out of him. His shoulder hit the ground hard, with a loud snap. Groaning and dazed, he looked around, unsure where he was. He knew he didn’t get far from Eskel, and as he struggled to his feet he could hear the crashing and flames of a fight. He leaned against a tree, woozy and tried to think. He tried to stumble closer to where he heard the splashing and squelching of Eskel, but after the second time he fell and jarred his shoulder, he just sat and cried. And then he heard the  _ whistle. _ _  
_ _  
_ “Eskel!” Jaskier called. “Eskel, over here!”    
  
Crashing through the brush Eskel appeared over him, blurry and yet still beautiful. “Julian?! What happened? Where’s the horses? Is Lambert okay?” Jaskier just leaned over and vomited. “Fuck.”   
  
When Jaskier came to, it was to Eskel’s bright golden eyes right in front of his face. “Jules, sweetheart, you gotta stay awake. Your arm’s dislocated. I can put it back, but it’s gonna hurt. Then we need to go find Lambert. Scorpion should be coming a lot faster, I’m worried.    
  
Jaskier just blearily nodded, and the movement made him vomit again. “Fuck, Jules, you need to rest, I’m so sorry. I’m going to carry you, ok? Your arm is gonna hurt but I can’t let it dangle for now, okay? Come on sweetheart answer me, Julian?”    
  
“Shhh, Eskel. I can walk, it’s just too bright out.”   
  
He pulled him close into a hug, kissing the bard’s forehead. “Just close your eyes, ok? I’ll carry you. Let me, ok?”    
  
At that, Jaskier just relaxed, submitting to Eskel gathering him in his arms, before whistling again for Scorpion. He limped onward into the forest, following the direction the horses took off in.    
  
\----   
  
Lambert watched Scorpion prick his ears and pull to go faster, and a little more to the left. He let him have his head, kicking slightly to hurry him along. He couldn’t hear anything, but was willing to bet the horse was following Eskel’s whistles. He’d seen Eskel recall the horse with them, and asked to train Nightmare the same way. Eskel promised to teach him when they had the space and time, at the keep. It was too hard with other noises and distractions in Oxenfurt.    
  
So he let Scorpion lead the way, patting his shoulder and scolding Nightmare for dropping Jaskier. It was unacceptable, and Lambert did not know what he would do if Jas was hurt. Soon, another whistle rang out, this one Lambert heard. He kicked Scorpion madly, trying to get him to hurry along, but the horse refused to move past his steady walk. It wasn’t until the third whistle that he finally caught sight of Eskel, limping, carrying Jaskier. 

\--- 

His horse, the best goddamn horse in the world, kept track of Lambert and that good for nothing mare. Eskel could have cried. Maybe he did cry. If he did, everyone else in the vicinity was crying as well, and wouldn’t say shit. It was nearly dark, and there was no way they were reaching the city.    
  
“Lambert, are you okay? I’m so proud, good job for keeping the horses together. Scorpion brought you back to me, how clever to ride him instead. Have you seen any clearings that we could use to camp in for the night?”    
  
Lambert wanted to climb down and hug them both, but instead he turned Scorpion around. “No, not really. It’s all been like this.”    
  
The forest was fairly dense, going slightly uphill. They were slightly off course, so Eskel just set off in the right direction, figuring even if they couldn’t find anything better, more distance between the fight and them would be better.    
  
Lambert saw the clearing first. It wasn’t a big one, barely big enough, but Eskel complimented him on noticing it and set to work for the night. He had Lambert pull a bedroll out for them to lay Jaskier down first, and then they untacked the horses together, piling the belongings behind Jaskier putting two bedrolls side by side. The horses were tied just at the edge of the clearing, with plenty of room to forage. Lambert and Eskel both just ate cold meat and apricots, as Eskel set a small campfire going. Eskel slid behind Jaskier, and Lambert curled in front of him, and fell asleep. Eskel curled into them both, one hand wrapped around Lambert’s wrist, and fell asleep. 

The morning brought Jaskier around, moaning. Lambert scrambled up, afraid of the sound. “Lambert, it’s alright. He just hit his head very hard when he fell, but I think he’ll be ok. He needs rest. For now, though, he needs food.”   
  
“He needs  _ wine _ , Eskel.”    
  
“You need  _ food _ , and I need to look at your shoulder.”    
  
“Why the fuck are you limping, get back here you big dumb ox and let me see that leg, isn’t that the one i already fixed once?”   
  
“You can help me clean it after I get you settled.”    
  
Eskel had to take his pants off, much to Lambert’s amusement, laughing at him half naked as the witcher grumbled. Jaskier was delirious but refused to settle until the wound was washed, with salve, and covered. After putting on new pants, he wrapped a sling for Jaskier’s arm, bribing him with a pain killing potion that Eskel had purchased for emergencies.    
  
After that, he cut another smaller width of bandage to use as a blindfold, which had Julian sliding a hand around Eskel’s neck to give him a hug, Eskel taking advantage of the moment to stand him up to check his balance. It was, frankly, terrible.    
  
“Lambert, you’re going to have to ride Nightmare alone today. Do you want the reins or do you want to leave her tied to Scorpion?”    
  
“I want the reins. I can ride.”    
  
“I’m only asking because Jules is gonna have to ride with me. He’s not steady, and you can’t hold him up. If he tips over, he’s taking you both to the ground and he can’t afford to hit his head again, okay?”    
  
“You better hold on tight to him, then. Don’t let go.”    
  
“I won’t, Lam. I won’t.”    
  
They settled Jaskier back down, and Lambert fed him fruit and nuts while Eskel packed up the campsite. He got Lambert settled on the horse before picking Julian up, his arms wrapped around the bard, pressing him to his chest. “Jules, come on. I’m gonna put you on Scorpion but I need your help, work with me.”    
  
Jaskier did his best, holding on, but he swayed badly. He clung to Scorpion’s mane, and as soon as Eskel was settled behind him he pressed himself back into the witcher, who wrapped one strong arm around his stomach. Leaning forward and whispering, “Jules, just let us know if you need to stop, or tap my leg twice, ok?”    
  
Jaskier hummed and they set off, for once not stopping in the afternoon. Lambert dug in the pack, handing back a handful of dried fruit, which Eskel did his best to coax Jaskier to eat. The bard didn’t want to let go, hanging on to the saddle, but mostly, he slid his hands behind the witcher’s thighs clinging on to the seams with the tips of his fingers, pressing Eskel’s legs into his own. They weren’t going as fast as before, and Eskel pulled them to a stop when he heard the Gwenllech, guiding them to the east.    
  
He found a nice little clearing, far enough from the river to still be safe, but close enough that he was so angry with himself for forcing Jaskier to camp another night. They camped the same as the previous night, but this time Eskel took both horses down to the river to let them drink deep and roll in the water. Soaked and happy, he brought them back to the tie out line to find Lambert fighting with the tent

  
“What are you doing there Lambchop?”   
  
“I want the tent tonight, I want him warm, he’s shivering.”   
  
“Lam, I don’t-.” Eskel paused. If they all curled up again, Jaskier would be too hot. If it was just the two of them, the tent would be fine. “Okay. If you want to sleep in the tent with him I’ll set it up for you.”    
  
He set the tent up so the cool breeze coming off the river would be caught by the tent flaps so they wouldn’t overheat. It was still too warm, really, for the tent. Lambert just wanted to protect Jaskier and that was reason enough to humor him. Eskel laid on his bedroll, watching the fire and listening to Lambert sleep, and Jaskier try to sleep. In the middle of the night, Jaskier attempted to clumsily climb out, Eskel dashing to catch him just before he tripped over a saddle. “Where are you going, Jules?”    
  
Retching counted as an answer, didn’t it? Jaskier thought so. An embarrassing answer, but Eskel didn’t complain, simply helped clean him up. He tried to deposit Jaskier back in the tent but he refused to let go until Eskel rolled Lambert into his arms.    
  
\--------

Ard Carraigh was noisier than he remembered, or maybe it was just the sheer annoyance at the crowds of people in the market. He headed straight towards the inn he and his brothers always used when coming through. Stabling the horses was tricky, but he decided to leave Jaskier under the care of the stable boy and Lambert. He took all the luggage to the Inn himself. 

The tavern owner knew him and his brothers, and offered Eskel his usual room, but when Eskel explained about Jaskier and his injury she just smiled and gave him a different key. Eskel ran the bags to the attic room, tossing the bags in before running back downstairs to fetch Jaskier. He carried him all the way up the stairs, into the room before really realizing what the innkeep had given him. It was a small apartment set up, a central sitting room with two small bedrooms on one side, and one on the other. There was even a bathroom, with a huge bathtub with a drain spout to spill the water, likely into the sewers.    
  
“Which room do you want, kid? Pick one.”    
  
Lambert checked all three and decided he wanted the room next to the bathroom, as the window looked over the stable and he could see Scorpion and Nightmare. Eskel was pleased, as his room being near Jaskier’s room meant he would be able to hear him more quickly if he woke up disoriented again. He tucked the bard into the bed, and told Lambert to go downstairs and ask the innkeep if they had any mail, and if Triss or Vesemir had been in town lately.    
  


As it turns out, waiting for someone to heal is terribly boring. Jaskier slept a full day and a half, waking only to eat, use the washroom, and go back to sleep. Eskel helped carry him through it all, without complaint. Lambert needed to move, so Eskel sent him on little errands to fetch food, check the horses, and once to his great delight, to a healer a few doors down with coins in his fist and a slip of paper with a list of herbs and potions. He nearly floated back, and spent the rest of the day helping Eskel restock potions. He didn’t really need more, but it kept them both busy.    
  
The third night, Jaskier stumbled out of his room, and into Eskel arms. It was disconcerting at first that the witcher just appeared whenever he needed help, but he realized tonight he’d begun to assume. Oh, that wouldn’t do. “Oh, no. Eskel. I can do it myself, you don’t have to, I just wanted-”   
  
Eskel had seen this before, plenty of times, with friends and brothers who hit the moment they could just start being self sufficient and started refusing still necessary help. “Jules, we’ve talked about this. Let me help. I want to. Please?”   
  
“You’ll get sick of this, sick of me being weak, I can’t, you need to let me do this.”    
  
“Julian, please. You are hurt, not incapable. You’ll feel better in a few more days. What is it you wanted?”    
  
“A bath,” the words were nearly reverent, but the tub was enormous and frankly, Eskel wasn’t positive the bard wouldn’t drown himself if left unattended.   
  
“Jules, I don’t know if that’s safe for you, the tub is enormous.”    
  
“Then come  _ with me _ , I just feel filthy, please Eskel?”    
  
As if he could deny those bright blue eyes anything, ever. “Alright. I’ll get it ready, you go get a change of clothes in your room, okay?”    
  
By the time the bard managed to pick his way carefully to his room and stack of clothes, stuffing his oils in a pocket. He took off his boots and left his doublet in a heap on the floor before padding slowly, softly, back towards Eskel.    
  
The witcher came and carried Jaskier into the steaming hot bath piling Jaskier’s clean clothes on top of his own, and peeling off the sweaty clothes he’d been in for days. “How is it so hot? You didn’t wake anyone?”   
  
Eskel’s eyes twinkled and he cast the tiniest igni, lighting a few candles he’d set in the room. “Oh that’s so clever, you did that to the water didn’t you?”    
  
Eskel looked smug, and stripped himself bare before climbing into the tub and carefully lifting Jaskier in with him. The bard immediately melted onto the witcher’s chest, head leaned back on his shoulders and he blissfully absorbed the heat. Eskel reached out over the tub, pulling the bottles in and inspecting them. “That one’s shampoo. I brought two, I wasn't sure which you would prefer.” 

“Which one is your favorite?” Jaskier pointed to one, and Eskel tilted the bard’s head back, wetting his hair before slowly and gently scrubbing in the sweet oil. “Beard, too?” At the small nod, he pulled Jasker higher up, resting his head on his chest as he carefully massaged along jawline before running his hand up the bard’s throat, large hand cupping the bard’s head, fingers splayed on the side of his neck while his thumb ran the edge of his jawline. Jaskier let out a broken moan, startling them both.    
  


Embarrassed, he did his best to wash himself as Eskel hurried through washing his own hair, still reaching out as the bard’s balance had him leaning as he cleaned. “Do you want a trim again? Your beard is getting pretty long. Lambert’s gonna start calling you shaggy again.”    
  
“Yes, please. If you do it now, we can just rinse off the hair before you take me to bed.”    
  
Eskel just about choked, but when he glanced at Jaskier there was a wicked smirk on his face. “You’re a little shit. Come, scoot closer.”    
  
Jaskier turned around, sliding himself beside Eskel. He stuffed a rolled up towel behind the bard’s head and straddled him. Eskel had left his shaving kit in here the day before, so it was an easy reach to gather the razor and supplies. He combed and trimmed the bard’s beard, shaving his neck and shaping it into the dashing beard it’d been when he first saw the bard, his avenging angel.    
  
They were both hard and the tension was palpable. Eskel slowly cleaned him up, wiping away the soap and hair, before helping him out of the bath. He did his best to pretend he didn’t notice the bard was as strung out as he was, but when he pressed the bard down into his bed and Jaskier tried to coax him into bed, it took all of his self control to say no. “Jas, your head. You’re not thinking clearly. You still need a few days to heal. Just rest.”    
  
Even though he knew it was the right thing to do, Eskel slipped into his own room, hating his own weakness. He leaned against the wall and slid his hand down, gripping himself. He came with Jaskier’s name on his lips, knowing he was only breaking his own heart.    
  


Over the next few days, Eskel took Lambert into the city to buy books, and a journal. He even purchased a pendant, a bright yellow buttercup on a blue enamel background. He gave it to Lambert, who added it to the medallion chain he kept hidden under his shirt. Ten days since arriving in the city, Jaskier finally had enough balance back that Eskel was willing to try for the Keep. 

He still hadn’t heard from anyone, so he set out to find the court mage of Ard Carraigh to send a message to Triss. If she was at the keep, good. If not, he needed her to come. The mage sent his letter, and offered to come check Jaskier. So Eskel accepted, but when he told Jaskier and Lambert, Lambert hid in his room until the sorcerer had come and gone. Jaskier was fine, the sorcerer said he was just fine, but healed some of the lasting damage just because he liked Vesemir. They thanked him, offering to pay but the man waved them away before leaving.    
  


They left the next morning, urging their horses into a run, enjoying the flat wide road heading north. They ran, the horses enjoying stretching their legs, until the next town came into view. The notice board was empty, but Eskel just headed straight to the inn, where he went inside before coming back out and mounting back up on Scorpion, pushing them on. At Jaskier’s questioning glance, Eskel just shook his head. “Seeing if Vesemir checked in.” 

  
Once they left town, they pushed the horses into an easy canter again, letting them run along the river until Nightmare slowed first. Eskel hauled them all off the horses for an afternoon rest, letting the horses drink deeply at the river. Lambert splashed around the edge once Eskel told him it was safe and after light lunch, they headed off again. As the mountains loomed, a small farm came into view. Eskel pushed the horses into a run again, wanting to reach the farm, desperate to hear any news.    
  
He turned the horses loose in a small paddock, sending Lambert to go look at the farm animals but warning him off the pigs, as they were far larger than he was. The boy made a beeline to the chickens, climbing in the roost to look for eggs, but finding only a small barn cat who curled around his legs and purred, delighted in the attention.   
  
“Whose farm is this, Eskel?”   
  
“A friend of Vesemir’s. We check on her every year. She’s the last stop before we go up. None of the goats are here so Ves must be back up at the keep. Come, let’s say hello.”   
  
Mignole was delighted to see Eskel and meet Jaskier, gushing about the boys being so strong and handsome.    
  
“Mignole, can we impose on your hospitality for the night? We’re traveling with Julian’s son, and you know how the mountain can be even in the summer.”    
  
“Oh you have a boy? What’s his name? Oh, bring him in.”    
  
“Jules, I’ll go fetch him, just stay put. Mignole, if you don’t mind some tea? Jules is still recovering, he hit his head when he hurt that arm.” Eskel gestured to the sling that he forced the bard to wear.   
  
“Oh, no problem dear, just be a tick.”   
  
Eskel went outside, returning nearly immediately with Lambert. “Hi. I’m Alfred, nice to meet you.”    
  
“What sweet manners on you, little one. Your daddy teaches you well. You know, you arrived nearly in time for supper, What would you like, why don’t you come with me to the kitchen. We can fix something up together. Eskel dear, you know I only have one room, will you two be okay in the barn?”   
  
“That’ll be just fine, Mignole, thank you for your hospitality. Alfred needs the warm bed, we’ll be just fine.”   
  
After a dinner of rice and roast chicken and far too much wine, Mignole claimed old age and went to bed, leaving the cleaning to the boys. Eskel sent Jaskier to get Lambert settled for bed, reassuring the child they wouldn’t be far and Eskel would hear him if he hollered anyway. By the time Eskel and Jaskier headed out to climb into the hayloft, Eskel had to hold his hand and guide him through the darkness. He paused to toss two hunks of hay into the paddock for the horses who dug in with relish. Eskel sent Jaskier up the ladder in front of him, not trusting the bard to climb one handed. He carried both their cloaks over his shoulders, but the body heat from the animals and the hay kept the loft warm. He had only just laid one cloak down before Jaskier pushed him down on the hay and straddled him.    
  
“ _ Eskel.”  _ _  
_ _  
_ His hands immediately gripped the bard’s narrow hips as he rocked down into him. “Jules, what-”    
  
“Eskel, please?” One hand spread wide on his stomach, sliding up his shirt   
  
“Julian, you don’t want this, you can’t want this.”   
  
“Why can’t I?”   
  
“I thought, aren’t you and Geralt?” Jaskier sat with a thump on Eskel’s thighs. He looked at Eskel, long and hard, before getting up and curling up on the hay. “Julian?” 


	21. Welcome to Kaer Morhen

Lambert woke in a strange room, smelling bacon. He heard humming, and wandered out to find Mignole in the middle of making an enormous breakfast. “Good morning, child! Are you hungry?” Lambert nodded eagerly, and she handed him a bucket. “Go toss this to the chickens, then, and wake your Pa. Eskel can handle the other farm chores, but you be sure to wash up before coming back in, alright?”    
  
Lambert took off happily, tossing the feed and patting the friendly chickens. The only chickens he met before were nasty things that bit toes. These ones were gentler, though he still was very careful about his toes. The kitten from before wasn’t there, but an enormous grey tabby cat followed him to the barn instead, meowing a loud, grating cry for pets.  


He climbed up the ladder to see Eskel quietly watching Jaskier sleep. “There’s food, but she said you have to do chores first.” Eskel gathered Lambert in a hug, squeezing tight, before climbing down the ladder.    
  
“Jas?” Lambert flopped down next to him, poking him in the chest until he woke up. “Jassss.”    
  
“You, sweetling, are lucky you’re so cute. Ughhhh it’s early.”   
  
“Why does Eskel look so sad?”   
  
“I am not sure, beanpole.”    
  
“Why don’t you  _ ask _ ?” 

“A fair question, sweetness. I will, I guess.”    
  
“Mignole made breakfast. She seems really nice. Why did Eskel tell me to pick a fake name?”   
  
“That’s another question for tall, dark and handsome, isn’t it?”   
  
“You are so gross.”    
  
“Probably. Let’s go wash up and get food, okay?”    
  


Mignole spent breakfast telling Eskel about Vesemir’s visits over the previous year, and how worried he had been just before winter hit and his boys hadn’t come home. Vesemir had done loops through Kaedwen, only returning to the keep in late autumn. He’d already come down the mountain once this spring to check on her, but said he would try leaving messages in Daevon before heading back up the mountain. Apparently, he’d even tried to contact both Yenn and Triss, but Mignole didn’t know if he’d gotten any answers. None of it surprised Eskel, but it was good to know that his assumptions were correct. 

  
Eskel offered his hand at any labor she needed around the farm, but Mignole just waved him off. “If you really want to help, dear, go chop some firewood while your man and I saddle the horses. I know you need to be off early, that mountain is not an easy climb.”    
  
So Eskel found himself chopping firewood, stacking it in a shed near the house as Lambert took great delight in rolling logs over to Eskel. He found some really interesting bugs under the largest logs, bringing Eskel a particularly large looking grub. He squealed and ran back when Eskel pretended to eat it, and refused to show him any new strange bugs.  It was a warm day, so Eskel ditched his shirt to avoid drenching it in sweat, handing it to Lambert to lay out of the way. His swords and armor had been left with the saddlebags, and he knew Mignole wouldn’t let Jaskier overtax his shoulder tacking the horses, so he just focused on chopping as much wood as he could. So close to Kaer Morhen, with Vesemir here, there was little danger anyway. With all the visiting witchers and her sons, Mignole always had plenty of wood and safe surroundings. Eskel made a note to tell Vesemir they’ll have to chop down a few trees later in the season as the pile of logs was getting pretty low, Eskel could see over the top.    
  
When Jaskier rode around the house, Scorpion’s reins looped over his arm, he paused biting his lip and admiring the view. Eskel swung the axe down, splitting the log in half in one smooth motion. He waited while Lambert dashed in to set the log up to split again. It looked effortless, but the play of muscles through the sheen of sweat on his back was breathtaking. Jaskier watched their teamwork until Eskel paused, wiping sweat off of his brow with the back of an arm and saw him.    
  
“Very impressive.”    
  
Eskel straightened and turned to look at the woodshed behind him, built by Vesemir. There was plenty of wood to last two winters. “Yeah, I suppose. We all pitch in, it’s important to Ves.”    
  
Lambert snorted. Jaskier was  _ not _ looking at the stupid woodpile. “Is it time to go?”    
  
“Well, if Eskel’s done giving the entire countryside a magnificent show, yes. Mignole helped me get all the bags up.”    
  
Eskel seemed to only just remember he’d taken his shirt off. “Ah, let me go rinse off. Gonna ride with me today, Lam?”    
  
“Yeah!”    
  
Eskel’s armor had been laid over top of Scorpion’s saddle, and his scabbards hung over the pommel so Lambert just shoved them both forward, climbing on Scorpion. Behind him, Eskel simply dumped a bucket of cold water over his head, scrubbing his face and hair to get most of the sweat and dust off. He shook his head, spattering water everywhere before pulling his shirt back on and heading over to Lambert. Jaskier didn’t know if he’d died and this was punishment, or if he died and this view was his reward. As Eskel swung up behind Lambert and they headed off, Jaskier thought about the sight for a long time, even after Eskel had dried enough to put his armor and swords back on. It was probably punishment, to be honest.    
  


Even though they started early, the trek up the mountain was hard. Eskel kept them going for a few hours past midday before stopping. They sat on a large rock, overlooking the valley below while they finished the last of the apricots with their lunch. “From here, Julian, it’s best to walk Nightmare. Lam can stay on Scorpion for most of the way, though.”    
  
“You’re walking?”    
  
“This is a treacherous part of the trail, Lam. Dangerous even to me. We’ll be fine if we go slow, and Scorpion knows this trail. Just hang on to him, okay?”    
  
They walked slow and steady, up tricky switchbacks for hours until they climbed the lip of a bluff and could see the keep looming ahead. Eskel helped an exhausted Julian into the saddle before swinging up behind Lambert and leading them on. “It looks close, but that’s the outer wall. Come on, let’s get these poor horses turned out to rest.”    
  
The keep was enormous, and well hidden. It was built curved into the mountain, using the peak’s natural curves to compliment the curves. A wide swath was carved around the tall outer walls, leaving the ground clear and grass high. The peaks and tall trees in the valley leading up to the keep helped block sight of it from a distance, but it was easy to see how access to the keep was easily cut off once the snow got deep.    
  
Eskel led them both to the stables, turning the horses out in stalls that had open doors to a large pasture, both horses taking off immediately once released. A dappled grey horse was already loose, wandering closer to inspect the newcomers. Eskel shouldered the heavy packs, giving the lute and drum to Lambert. “Come on, Jules. Let's find you both rooms before we find Vesemir. He’s going to want answers, and that’s due to be a long discussion.”    
  
Eskel led them up into the keep, catching sight of Vesemir leaving the kitchens. The old man just held a hand up, and Eskel raised one in return. He took them to his room first, dropping off his armor and swords. “Geralt’s room is at the very end of this floor and -” Eskel’s face went white. “Ah. Erm. Yenn stays in the tower while she’s here, Triss has her own room on the other side, closer to Vesemir’s room. He stays over by the kitchens. There’s plenty of rooms, if Lambert wants his own. Do you -”    
  
“Can we stay close to you?” Lambert’s eyes were big, and oh, how did he not notice how scared the boy was?    
  
“Sure, help me check rooms along here, there’s got to be ones that’ll do.”   
  
It took a couple hours for them to find rooms, move the furniture around and shake out blankets and furs. Eskel took all of the firewood from his room, and stacked it in the Lambert’s and Jaskier’s rooms, starting a fire in each to warm it and freshen the air for the night. They had ended up with Julian in the room directly across from Eskel’s, with Lambert to the right. Eskel sorted out the saddle bags, so each of them had a stack of their belongings in their own spaces before he declared them finished. It was time to find Vesemir, who was probably nearly done with dinner.    
  
Lambert was afraid of this cold, dark keep, and insisted on holding both Eskel’s and Jaskier’s hands as they headed down to the kitchens. Eskel had told him this was his home, but not to wander around as it was old and there were dangerous areas. He promised to take him to see goats later, and that was pretty exciting, but they had to get through dinner first. 

The smell of roast venison greets them, as Eskel pushes open the door to the big kitchen. Jaskier catches the door behind him, neither one letting go of the boy doing his best to hide behind Eskel. “Vesemir!” Eskel threw out his arm, as the older witcher strode over and clasped him in a hug, both holding tight and taking deep breaths of the scent of their kin.    
  
“Son what have you brought with you?”    
  
Vesemir stepped back, and Jaskier nodded at him. “Julian Alfred Pankratz, at your pleasure. Otherwise known as Jaskier the bard.”    
  
Vesemir raised his eyebrow at Eskel, “Why did you bring Geralt’s idiot? He asked you to confirm he lived, not fetch him back.” Eskel flinched at the older witcher’s words , but Jaskier beat him to it.   
  
“I apologize for imposing on your hospitality, but when Eskel found me and my son, he thought you or your sorceress friends could help him out. I am here only as support for my son. I have not been fetched, I do not wish to intrude upon your home, and I will not impose myself upon you unnecessarily.”    
  
“ _ Vesemir.”  _ _   
_ _   
_ “Don’t give me that, Eskel. Geralt is in Aedirn with Yenn and the child surprise. He’s meant to be here in a few days, after that he can take his bard and -”   
  
“ _ Vesemir.  _ Look.”    
  
Eskel carefully drew Lambert in front of him, keeping an arm around the boy’s shoulders. He pressed himself back into Eskel, glaring at Vesemir as he trembled in fear of the imposing, angry man. Jaskier shifted closer again, touching the boy’s shoulder as Vesemir dropped to his knees.    
  
He grasped Lambert’s face, turning and inspecting it, before dragging him close and scenting his neck. “Eskel please tell me you know what the fuck is going on, because this  _ looks like Lambert.  _ It  _ smells like  _ Lambert.”    
  
“Little one, show him your necklace.” Lambert refused, turning and wrapped his arms around Eskel, hiding his face in the witcher’s shirt. Jaskier reached up, smoothing the long dark hair away before catching the chain of the medallion and pulling it out to show Vesemir. The old man held it for a moment, then stood and stalked out of the room, muttering about needing Triss.    
  
“I’m sorry, Lam. Lets get some food and then you can either see the animals or go to bed.”   
  
The child refused to move, even when Jaskier tried to loosen him, so Eskel just picked him up and carried him while making himself a plate, gesturing for Julian to sit and eat with him. Jaskier was usually talkative during meals, but the stressful confrontation set them all on edge. After coaxing the boy to eat, he carried him back up to his room and laid him in bed. “Julian-” Eskel reached for the bard, who just shook his head.   
  
“Go fix this, Eskel. I will take him and leave if I have to, but he can’t stay here if he’s afraid of Vesemir. Fix this, please.”   
  
“Jules- He’s wrong, you know? About you. I’m sorry. He-”   
  
“Just… go fix this for Lambert, alright?” Jasker put a hand on Eskel’s chest, gently backing him out of the room. “It’s okay. I’m used to people’s assumptions. Just. Fix it, please?” He shut the door gently, a soft smile that did nothing to hide the unshed tears in his eyes. Fuck. Eskel took off down the hall to find Vesemir. 

  
He found him in the library working on a bottle of wine. “I figured you’d want to talk, boy. Now, you going to tell me why you brought the idiot and what he did to Lambert?”    
  
“Stop that. We were wrong, okay? Geralt told us all this shit about him, complaining and bitching and none of us remembered he  _ bitches about everything. _ The great white dumbass lives for drama. He’s addicted to it.” Eskel threw his hands up and started pacing. “Have you not heard the song? Toss a coin? People have been kinder to us for years now, and that was  _ his doing.  _ He talks a lot, sure. But he’s not  _ stupid _ . Fuck, Ves I was in Oxenfurt for the entire damn winter. He’s a professor, and a damn sight better than the codgy old fools who taught us. His lectures are brilliant, and he's so damn _passionate._ He saved my stupid ass from some assholes in a town, stitched my wounds, demanded to help pay for supplies. Never once did he expect anything from me. All he’s given me is kindness. And when I showed up I thought the same thing you did- that he was some stupid, careless fool who fucked his way into trouble, and lied his way out of it.”   
  
Vesemir watched his son, the most steady and true of them all breathing hard, eyes wide and shining. “Eskel. I’m sorry I insulted your friend, but. It sounds like he gave you kindness, and you’ve given him quite a bit more.”    
  
At that, Eskel sat, burying his face in his hands. “Don’t. I know. I was looking for a foolish bard and my brother, and I found a kind, generous, _brilliant_ man who dotes on his adopted son.”    
  
“And that man loves your brother?”   
  
“I didn’t have the courage to ask, Ves.”    
  
They sat quietly staring at the fire until the wine was gone, then retreated to the cold comfort of their bedrooms. For as silent as the keep was, only Lambert slept well that night. 


	22. Yennefer

The next morning, Eskel found Vesemir cooking in the kitchen just before dawn. He watched him work, knowing this was part of how Vesemir showed he cared. This was as much an apology to Eskel as it was to Jaskier. Light just cracked over the tips of the mountains when he was done, platefuls of potatoes and small egg pies.    
  
They ate quietly together, before Vesemir stood to clean up. “I can do that, old man.”    
  
“No, go take the plates up. Maybe you can take Lambert to see the goats, they’re in the far pasture. He always did love sneaking out to see the animals when he was small. I need to have a talk with your bard.”    
  
“He’s not-”   
  
“I know what I said boy, go take Lambert out for the day. Show him the nice things here. I’ll finish up the chores and head up in awhile. Give him time to work through being angry at me, I damn well deserve it.”    
  
Eskel just nodded and took the plates. As usual, Lambert was already awake, harassing Jaskier. Eskel could hear him chattering from down the hall. He didn’t bother knocking, trained out of it after living with them in Oxenfurt. They both watched him walk in, Jaskier cross legged on the bed behind Lambert who was sprawled out, leaning back on his hands as his hair was braided. Eskel smiled, handing the plates over once Jaskier tied off the braid. 

“Vesemir made breakfast, part of his apology for being… crusty. Yesterday. He also let me off chores, and said Lambert and I can sneak off to the high pasture, go see the goats. There’s one in particular that’s my favorite, she usually comes on the Path with me.”    
  
“I’m not invited on this outing? Oh my heart, my child, you desert me, I am alone and unloved, my little swallow, flying from the nest. Fly, little bird, I’m so proud.”    
  
Both Eskel and Lambert staunchly ignored Jaskier’s dramatics, causing the bard to sulk. As Lambert went to fetch his boots, Jaskier looked up at Eskel. “He wants to talk to me, doesn’t he?” At Eskel’s nod, he grimaced, “How long do I have before he throws me out a window?”   
  
“Jules, he’s not gonna-”   
  
“Please, just. How long?”    
  
“Probably an hour or two. He’s gonna finish up morning chores.”    
  
“Alright, then. Let’s go. Find me a good spot where I can play and not annoy anyone, and you two can go off and terrorize farm animals.”    
  
Eskel wanted to argue, but instead guided them out, depositing Jaskier on a balcony that overlooked the valley. He brushed his fingers across the bard’s back before he left, unsure of what to say.    
  
Jaskier dragged the table over to the edge of the balcony and sat cross legged on top of it. The view was stunning, the curve of the mountain pass and the bright blue sky. He picked out a bright melody, and sang out, letting all of his fear and frustration and worries melt into song. He sang the oldest songs he knew, ones he learned in Oxenfurt, ones he found buried in old texts in the libraries. After one particularly mournful song, he paused, only to startle himself nearly off the table when Vesemir spoke. “It’s been a long time since these walls have heard music.”    
  
“Oh! My apologies, I asked Eskel to find a place my caterwauling wouldn’t disturb you.”   
  
“I haven’t heard those songs in years. Doesn’t sound like your usual tavern fare, bard.”   
  
“Oh, no. Tavern clientele prefer a … specific sort of tune. But that’s not what I prefer to sing. And I really haven’t had much time to just enjoy music in months.”    
  
“Why not? No time, while teaching I can possibly understand, but Lambert has always loved music. I can’t imagine this version any different. Do you not play for him?”    
  
“Ah, yes. He’s got a wonderful sense of rhythm, if it’s not too offensive perhaps ask him to play his drum for you.”   
  
“Bard, I feel like we’re having two separate conversations. You love to play. You enjoy playing here.” He continued, as Jaskier agreed with his points “You are talented enough to teach music, and have taught my son.” Jaskier agreed, but flinched on the last one. “You do not play for Eskel?” He shook his head. “And you will not play for me.” Jaskier hesitated.    
  
“It’s not that I won’t, or don’t want to. It was made very clear my playing and singing were unwelcome and burdensome. So, unless it’s in a tavern to earn coin, or Lambert really, really wants me to, I won’t play. It’s just respectful.”   
  
“Boy if you tell me Eskel ever dared disparage your playing, I’m going to know you’re a liar.”    
  
“What? No. He wouldn’t have much of a reason to? I guess I did play at the festival, but he could have left. I have tried not to bother him too much with it.”    
  
Vesemir thought, while the boy fidgeted. It was clear that Geralt had said something, and the bard took it to heart. Geralt had said a lot of things, and thinking back Vesemir wondered how he missed this. Sighing, he waved the young bard through the door. “I think we have a lot to talk about, and I need to apologize. I believed what I was told instead of taking into account unreliable sources and making my own decisions. I apologize for my rudeness. And for what it is worth, your voice and your music are welcome in these halls. Now. Come sit with me, I think I need to hear your story from the beginning.”    
  
He led them into the library, grabbing two bottles of wine on the way. He waved Jaskier into a seat, and handed him a glass of wine. “Now bard, please. From the beginning.”    
  
“Well. I found Lambert-”   
  
Vesemir held up his hand. “No, boy. I know this will probably require you to tell me about things that are painful. Eskel has Lambert, and they won’t return until dinner. We have a good long time. So please, start at the  _ beginning.  _ Because I suspect Geralt’s side of the story here isn’t entirely complete. And please. I know the boy. Don’t sugarcoat, tell me the truth.”    
  
So Jaskier talked. He talked himself hoarse, Vesemir keeping his cup full. He told Vesemir about meeting Geralt, about the punch. He told him about Filavandrel, and the years of trying to erase “the Butcher”. He talked about trying to convince himself to stay with the Countess who got tired of songs about Witcher and threw him out. He told him about Rinde, nearly dying, and the war with Yennefer. He talked about Cintra, the child surprise. About Yennefer popping up and the hate sex with Geralt. He told him about all the times he stitched the witcher’s wounds, about all the times Geralt would scream at him. He talked about when Geralt saved him from angry spouses, and the time they had an especially lucrative contract from a vineyard and the drunken sex they had. He talked about leaving every winter and visiting Cirilla. He talked about how often he got beat on the road when he traveled alone, in towns that didn’t approve of his songs. Eventually, he stopped. He was very, very quiet, and Vesemir knew, this was the important bit. 

  
Jaskier took a deep breath. “He told me that all I did was pile shit on him. He screamed at me, on top of a mountain, ‘If life could give me one blessing it would be to take you off my hands.’ So I did. I left. And months later, I found Lambert.”    
  
He told Vesemir about the small scared boy, about taking him to Lettenhove and formally adopting him. About them believing the witcher gear was the witcher who saved him. About trying to get help to find out about his memories. Finally, about Eskel. About the wyverns, the town, and Eskel’s realization that Lambert was his brother, and the decision to come here. He sat back, for the first time in his life, talked completely out of words.    
  
Vesemir had gotten it wrong. This bright little bard that sung songs he remembered from childhood, who put a light in Eskel’s eyes, was much different than the fool he had expected. Vesemir found he really did want to get to know the bard better.    
  
“Jaskier, or Julian?”    
  
“Hm? Oh. Whichever, I suppose.”    
  
“Jaskier, then. The name I’ve known of you the longest. I think there’s only one real question I have left. Do you love him?”   
  
Jaskier couldn’t help it- he burst into laughter. “Vesemir, the man broke my heart on a mountain. I  _ gave up _ , wandering around the wilderness for months, until I found a little boy who healed my heart. Whatever love I felt for Geralt has long been washed away.”    
  
Vesemir thought about asking his question again, but the thought of meddling any further stayed him. The bard had been wronged, and if Eskel wanted to win him he’d need to do it on his own merit. Nodding, Vesemir stood, offering a hand to pull Jaskier up. “You look like you need a hug, boy. Then let’s go get dinner started before those two are back and start raiding the cupboards.” He drew the bard into a crushing hug, and guided the drunk bard to the kitchen.    
  
\----   
  
Eskel carried an exhausted Lambert into the kitchen, plastered to the witcher’s back. He sat at the table across from Jaskier, who had fallen asleep on the table. Nudging Lambert off, he pushed a plate of food in front of the boy who fell upon it ravenously and fell asleep on the table before Eskel even cleared his plate.    
  
“Good talk, Ves?”   
  
Vesemir shook his head. “You know your brother. I don’t know what the bard’s told you, but that dumbass near broke him. He’s owed many apologies, but I could only give him mine. Geralt is to arrive tomorrow, keep the bard near. I am… hesitant at how this could go. Now, it looks like these two need a ride. I’ll take the little one. It’s been too long since I’ve gotten to hold my son so small, I’m not going to pass up the opportunity. Where are they at?”   
  


“Jules is across from me, Lamb’s beside him.”    
  
Vesemir lifted the boy, and carried him out the door. Sighing, Eskel came around the table and gathered the bard in his arms. He held him close and set off after Vesemir. The older witcher was already headed back, and clapped Eskel on the shoulder as he passed. Eskel slipped into Julian’s room, tucking the bard into bed before pulling off his boots. He brushed his fingers over his hair, and slipped out and into his own room. 

\----    
  
Eskel woke early, and peeked in Lambert’s room to see the boy just starting to stir. “Hey Lambchop, wanna come with me to make Jaskier breakfast?”    
  
He blearily nodded, shoving himself upright and sat, staring at the wall before shaking his head and wandering after Eskel. By the time they got down to the kitchen, the boy was bright and bubbly, begging to make Jaskier something sweet for breakfast. They settled on toast with honey and fruit, and Eskel carried the tray back up as Lambert zipped ahead. They were lucky with timing, Eskel opened the door to see a sleep tousled bard, just blinking his eyes open, hair spread on the pillow about him. The sunshine made him look ethereal and it took Lambert poking him to remember he’d brought breakfast.    
  
“Oh, breakfast for me? Are we eating together, sit sit, have you eaten yet?”    
  
Eskel could just nod, and Jaskier bullied him onto the bed and rested his head on his shoulder as he nibbled. “What’s our plan for today? Plan a goat revolt? Perhaps there’s chickens that need sweaters.”    
  
Eskel nudged Jaskier’s shoulder. “Well. Triss and Geralt are supposed to arrive today. Vesemir hinted at wanting to spend a little time with Lam by himself, and I thought I could show you the hot springs.”    
  
“Little bear cub, how do you feel about spending some time with Vesemir? He was grumpy first, I know, but we talked quite a bit yesterday and I think it’s all sorted out now. He was upset about things that happened, not directly at you or I. He was even asking about hearing you play your drum!”    
  
Lambert thought about it, but he was pretty sure that neither Jaskier or Eskel would let him alone with anyone that would hurt him. “Alright, I guess.”    
  
\-----   
  
Lambert was left with Vesemir, much to Jaskier’s dismay. He was nervous, and fidgeted as they left. “Jules, it’s ok. At the very worst, I gave him a whistle. I’ll hear it from anywhere on this keep.”    
  
“You… a whistle?”   
  
Eskel shrugged. “The trainers used to use it when we were sent in the woods to train. It’s high pitched, I’m not even sure if you’d hear it.”    
  
“That’s… terribly clever. Thank you.”    
  
Eskel had thought the bard would enjoy exploring the hot springs but it wasn’t until he got to the hot springs he realized he really didn’t think this plan through. Jaskier’s eyes lit up as he was guided into the room. The entrance tunnel had piles of towels and shelves for your clothes, and inside that was a shower set up to rinse off before you entered the pools. Eskel led him by the hand towards the fireplace, casting a small igni that lit up the room, with crystals that refracted the light through the cascading pools. “The small pool, back there? Don’t go in that one. It’s the source, and it’s extremely hot.” He pointed along the four big pools, the last one that drained away slowly out a gutter set towards the back wall. “It’s pretty much self cleaning, since the spring is always bubbling. But the water goes out down the back of the keep, runs down into the river.”    
  
Jaskier just turned in a circle, taking in the crystals that bounced the light all through the room and slight reflective glow of the water. “It’s  _ beautiful _ .”   
  
Eskel ran a hand up Julian’s arm, before the piercing whistle made him stagger.    
  
\--------------   
  
Lambert was currently wedged behind the trough in Scorpion’s stall. The big stallion lipped at his hair, curious and looking for attention. Lambert tried to push him away but gave up, huddling down farther, trying to bury himself in the straw.   
  
“What the hell did you do to my son?” Vesemir roared at Yennefer.    
  
“Relax, old man. I just wanted to see if it really was Lambert. Geralt can stab things with silver, I have other means to determine what’s real.”   
  
Geralt, on the other hand, was leaning towards the stables, as Vesemir held him back by his arm “Leave him, boy, you’ll just scare him more!”    
  
“How do you know that’s really Lambert? Your message said you found him with Jaskier, it has to be some sort of trap. The fool wouldn’t know danger if it bit his dick off!”    
  
“ENOUGH.” Vesemir shook Geralt. “Go! Walk it off, run the walls, run the killer, do something before Eskel or I beat this attitude out of you!” Snarling, he stalked away.    
  
“Witch, you do not come into my home and start attacking my son!”    
  
“Your  _ son? _ That’s not what he thinks he is. Have you tested him with silver? You didn’t even let me get a proper read on him, and he reeks of inferior magic.”    
  
“You need to leave, now. You were to be staying with Cirilla, and Triss was coming here to help.  _ Why did that change?” _ _   
_ _   
_ “Don’t get your pants in a knot, old man. Geralt asked me to check if it was a threat.”    
  
“ _ Go.  _ Before I forbid that boy from bringing you back. I’ve heard of the poison your mouth can spill and it is not welcome here. Send Triss along, I welcome her insight and assistance but until you come with apologies for every person in this keep  _ including _ Jaskier, consider yourself uninvited.”    
  
Yennefer flips her hand carelessly and strides through a portal as Eskel and Jaskier come tearing into the courtyard. Both are breathing hard, but Eskel’s eyes narrow, as he casts about, smelling the courtyard. He grabs Jaskier by the wrist and pulls him to the stables, finding Lambert sobbing. Jaskier pulls the boy into his arms, clinging to him. Eskel stands over them both, leg pressed to Jaskier’s side, grounding them both as he stood guard. “I was so scared she went in my head and I saw purple and I thought she was coming to take me away from you, she was asking me if I was there to hurt Ciri? She asked you were a spy and here to hurt Ciri and Geralt. Who is Ciri? Why did the other man cut me? They said they needed to cut you, too.” Lambert held up a shaking hand, a clean slice cutting through his shirt and forearm.    
  
Eskel roared out of the stable, spooking the horses and making Lambert and Jaskier jump. He stalked through the courtyard, on the hunt for Geralt before Vesemir caught him by the arms, trying to hold him back. The older witcher stood in front of him, as Eskel pressed against his resistance, snarling. Vesemir, however, just snarled back and pushed Eskel until he took a step backwards. And then another.    
  
Eskel’s rage simmered back down but he was still panting and tense. Vesemir slowly let go of his arms, and placed one hand on Eskel’s chest.    
  
“Yennefer left-”   
  
“I  _ heard _ .”   
  
“The whole goddamn mountain probably heard, boy don’t interrupt. Yennefer left. Her threat is gone. Geralt sounds like he is running the Killer. You can have at him later, but I will get there first as no one draws a blade on my sons without answering for it. Your bard is terrified, he’s stinking the whole place up with fear. Take him and Lambert, go calm them down. Whatever you need to do, but with Yennefer’s attack I doubt the boy will trust me right now. I’m not sure when Triss will show up. It was supposed to be her today.”    
  
“I’ll take them to his room. If Geralt comes anywhere near them I just might kill him. She told the boy Julian was a spy to hurt Ciri and Geralt. And he drew a blade on a face  _ he should remember.  _ They said they’d cut Julian  _ next.”  _ _   
_ _   
_ “Eskel, take them and go, you’re just going to drive yourself mad. Make them safe, there’s no enemy here now.”    
  
Eskel stalks back to the stable and herds Jaskier and Lambert to Lambert’s room. Jaskier just manages to push Lambert inside and shut the door, pushing on the solid wall that was Eskel. “Eskel, please. Let me get my lute, a book to read to him. I won’t go far.”    
  
Eskel pressed his hands against the wall on either side of Julian’s head. He couldn’t touch the bard right now he’d bruise him. He carefully, slowly, pressed his face against Julian’s neck. “Please just… go in the room and stay there. I’ll bring you whatever you want but please. He threatened you both and I am not allowed to attack him for it and it is driving me crazy. Please just give me this. Let me protect you.”    
  
The crazy, foolish, insane bard lifted Eskel’s face with gentle fingers until he could look in his eyes. “You are more than your fear and rage, Eskel. I am going to get the lute, and a book. I think, even, my pillow. You may watch me. Then, because I am as scared as you, I’m going back into this room, and I’m going to curl around my son, because he is scared too.”    
  
Something in Eskel just melted, the rage, the frustration, he wasn’t sure. He leaned back and away, and Julian slid past, into his own room. Eskel counted the seconds, but held his ground. With an armful of supplies, Julian came back, kissed Eskel on the cheek, and disappeared into Lambert’s room shutting the door with a soft click.    
  
Eskel wanted to pace and prowl and growl, but he thought of big blue eyes and forced himself to go bring food to the two people he needed most to protect. 


	23. The Oldest Song

Eskel meditated, kneeling in front of Lambert’s door. Jaskier had tried to get him to come inside but Lambert was still stressed and afraid so Eskel promised to keep watch. In the darkest portion of the night, he saw golden eyes at the far end of the hallway. Eskel’s deep rumbling growl went unanswered, and Geralt slunk away. 

The next morning, Vesemir appeared, hands up. “Geralt and I had a long talk last night. Let me talk to Jaskier, then we’re leaving them to talk. You have my word he will not harm the bard.”

Eskel slid aside, and Vesemir opened the door. Jaskier was sitting working in a song book as Lambert still slept, curled in a ball beside him. “Jaskier. I came to apologize, as I didn’t have time to ask your permission. Geralt needed to know quite a few things, and I shared some - not all, don’t fret- of what you told me. He wants to talk to you and I made it clear for every “humm” he gives you I’ll let Eskel punch him once. And that if he cannot make himself understood, I will no longer restrain Eskel’s ire.” 

“Can you tell me why they attacked Lambert that way?” 

“Apparently in retrieving the child surprise they had run-ins with a doppler, and a few mages. Had he used his words, he could’ve seen the medallion. It’s silver, and would’ve proved the same point without cutting the boy. I assume you tended the wound?”

“Yes, Eskel brought bandages, along with food up.” 

“Will you accept Geralt’s request to speak?” 

Jaskier slumped. He didn’t want to, but he didn’t want the rift between Eskel and Geralt to remain. And if Lambert stayed here, he wanted him to have both of his brothers. “I will. Will you and Eskel take Lambert, out of earshot just in case?”

Vesemir nodded, standing back to let Jaskier leave the room. He brushed a hand on the still kneeling witcher’s shoulder as he passed, walking back to the balcony he found so beautiful before. If Geralt wanted to toss him over, at least it’d be a beautiful last sight. 

\----

Geralt saw Eskel carrying the boy on his shoulders, headed out to the stables with Vesemir. The boy looked exactly like Lambert, just younger, so much younger. With long, loose hair. He watched them saddle up the horses before seeking out Jaskier. It wasn’t hard- his chamomile and pine scent still familiar after so long traveling together. 

He found him on a balcony, smelling of fear and a scent he couldn’t place. He smelled like Lambert did after Volthere died. Like Eskel, the years after he’d gotten his scars. He looked at the line of him, long dark trousers, and a loose blue shirt nearly the color of his eyes. Geralt had never seen Jaskier dressed so plainly. He coughed, quietly, and Jaskier turned. It’d been two years since he’d seen him, and he was taken back by how different and yet exactly the same he looked. His hair was longer, and he still looked so young. But instead of the bare baby faced bard, he had a full, but well groomed beard. It gave sharp lines to his jawline, and all the extra chestnut hair made his enormous blue eyes stand out even more. 

Geralt couldn’t help the sigh. The bard was fine, and looked no worse for wear in the two years since he’d seen him last. He looked tired, and angry, but well. “Jaskier, You know that Yenn and I just-”

“Absolutely not. Say what you need to say, Geralt, but don’t tell me what I think or know. I just need you to speak for just yourself.”

“You found Lambert.” 

“Yes, we’ve rather come to that conclusion.”

“I’m sorry Yenn scared him. And I just wanted to make sure he wasn’t - you know, silver?”

“Geralt, do you know he’s still wearing his medallion? Eskel asked him to wear it. It’s silver. He wears it every day, taking it off only to wash.” 

“You found Lambert, and his medallion. Vesemir says you have his armor and swords. How could you not know it was him?”

“Geralt, when would I have met him? I didn’t even know you had brothers. I’ve never been to Kaer Morhen. Eskel said it was the best place to find out what happened to Lambert, and since we couldn’t find anyone else to help, we came here. I did not ask to be brought here, I did not ask to see you. I apologize for intruding in your home. I’ll leave as soon as things with Lambert are solved, either way.” Jaskier went to leave, but Geralt caught him by the arm. When Jaskier flinched back at the touch, Geralt frowned. 

“Jaskier, no. I. What I said was harsh and cruel, and I apologize. After you were gone, I realized I missed you. You were a good friend to me, and you’ve been a good friend to Lambert.”

“Friend? Geralt, your father thought I was an idiot. Eskel looked horrified when he found out who I was. Clearly whatever you’ve said about me wasn’t terribly flattering, which makes sense why I was unwelcome here. But do not, do not call me Lambert’s friend. He has my entire heart, he’s a son to me. I gave him my name, I gave him my title, and I would give him my life.” 

Geralt was quiet. “What do you mean, your title?”

“Did you… never listen to me? Not once? I never hid it. I’ve told you stories of the ridiculous exploits of my mother trying to find me a bride. Julian, stop dancing around like a tramp and come home to Lettenhove. I showed you the letter, after that week in Vizima. You said I don’t dance around like a tramp, I dance like a whore, because I get paid for it.” Jaskier sighed. “For all I used to love you, you never really knew me at all, did you? It’s okay, Geralt. Just. I’m here for Lambert. He’s more important than either of us right now, so I need you to make it up to Eskel. And I will forgive you, with time. I don’t think I ever did hate you, and I am glad to hear you looked for me. I know words are hard for you, so thank you for trying.” 

Geralt released his arm, startled to realize he hadn’t let it go. As Jaskier walked away, he turned to watch him. All Geralt could manage was a soft “I’m sorry, Jaskier.”

\----

Dinner that night was a calm affair, Vesemir having roped Geralt into cooking to make up for his tantrum. Eskel pulled out the bottle of wine he brought with him, handing it to Vesemir at the table. “Julian brought this for you, it’s a nice vintage.” 

“Ah, thank you Jaskier. Will you play for me tonight? A glass of wine and music sounds like a wonderful evening.”

Jaskier looked up at the oldest witcher, frozen, eyes wide. Vesemir knew very well that Jaskier didn’t want to say no to him, but also felt unwelcome playing here. “How about in the library, bard? Come play some of those old songs for me again. Does the little drummer know them? He hasn’t shown me yet his skills, but I can wait if he’s still shy. The boys can entertain themselves elsewhere for the evening if music isn’t of interest. Perhaps a nice hike. The stars are nice tonight.” 

Lambert had been hiding between Eskel and Jaskier, doing his best to not be noticed, but dug his hand into Jaskier’s shirt, and spoke up. “I only know the newer songs but Jas has been teaching me improv. I can try.” 

“That sounds wonderful, little one. We’ll play for a little while, and when you get tired you can go to bed, and I can play as long as Vesemir wants, okay?”

Eskel caught Geralt’s eyes across the table, for once neither was sure what the other was thinking. “Spar?” Geralt offered. They both stood and walked out, but Geralt didn’t miss how Eskel trailed his fingers along the bard’s back as he walked behind him. He saw the glance, and smile between them, and realized with a start that was how Jaskier used to look at him. 

After dinner was cleared, Lambert was instructed to take the leftovers out to the pigs and goats. Once the cleaning was finished, Vesemir took them to a balcony overlooking the courtyard where Geralt and Eskel were sparring. By now, both had stripped their shirts off, sheened in sweat. They circled each other, before lunging and striking, swords clashing. They both were covered in dirt and scrapes, having tossed each other around the courtyard. 

“Lambert, son, come watch. Sit right here, you won’t fall.” Looking back at Jaskier, he climbed up, and held a hand out for Jaskier to come closer and hold. “They’re sparring now, practicing. They’ve done this since boyhood. They started out with just steel, but watch.” Vesemir didn’t raise his voice, just called down to the pair, “Signs! Eskel, left hand!” 

Eskel immediately tossed the sword aside and put his left hand behind his back, barely putting up a Quen in time to block Geralt’s sword. He spun gracefully away, and as they moved back and forth across the courtyard, Geralt light footed and vicious in attack and Eskel evading and avoiding smoothly, never removing his left hand from behind his back. “Geralt, Signs!” 

“This looks just like when Eskel practiced in the courtyard at home.” Lambert whispered, but Vesemir smiled down at him. 

“He was practicing forms, now watch. Eskel is bored of being on the defense.” 

Suddenly Geralt dropped to his knees, wrists crossed as a bright sheen enveloped him only a breath before Eskel unleashed a massive Igni. The flame billowed up and around Geralt, filling the courtyard. Neither witcher was visible around the torrent, but the flame lit the entire courtyard, dispelling every shadow. The sharp heat of the flame sucked the moisture out of the air. Lambert gasped at the inferno, leaning forward. The flame cut off sharply and Geralt cast Aard, knocking Eskel back a few steps before casting his own igni, which didn’t even reach Eskel as the dark haired witcher smirked, casting an Aard that sent Geralt tumbling back into the courtyard wall. “Enough. Go clean up, boys.” Eskel caught Jaskier’s eyes as he left the courtyard, still smirking, as Geralt peeled himself off the ground. He looked up at the balcony to see Jaskier’s awestruck face watching Eskel, with Lambert’s serious face looking up at Jaskier. Vesemir lifted his chin at Geralt, sending him to the springs to wash, so he left, scraped and irritated at the loss. 

\-----

Lambert and Jaskier curled up on a soft rug in front of the fireplace, with a low banked flame. Even in the summer, night time in the keep could be chilly. Vesemir had dragged over a plush chair, his bottle of wine and glass on a chair beside him. Jaskier had a mug of water on the floor with a pitcher of more on the table near Vesemir. 

“Going to show me what you know, son?” Vesemir gestured to the small drum, and Lambert glanced up to Jaskier. 

“How about your songs first? It's late my junebug. We’ll play a little before you go to bed. You must be getting tired.” Jaskier tucked Lambert’s long hair behind his ear, kissing his forehead. He leaned into the affection, breathing in some bravery before sitting back up. 

Jaskier led Lambert through a few drum songs Essi had taught him, and then through their most popular duets they played around Oxenfurt. Lambert’s voice was young, and mostly untrained, but clear and bright. The joy he had pervaded the room, his voice echoing down the halls. Jaskier sang with him, harmonizing and yet never overpowering the lighter voice with his stronger, richer one.

\------

Eskel stood in the kitchen, chewing on an apple, watching Geralt pick one for his own. 

“You really didn’t like to hear him sing?” 

“I never said that.” 

“I think you did. Or you did to him, anyway. Vesemir had to manipulate him into this as it is, and you heard Lambert singing from here. He’s happy singing with Julian. That bard asked me to find him a place to play where no one would have to hear him, Geralt.” Eskel shook his head, tossing his apple core in the bucket for the pigs. “I’m going to go listen. His voice is beautiful.” Geralt just watched him go. 

\------

With all the excitement of the day Lambert only lasted through half of their usual set before Jaskier took the drum, pushing the boy gently to lay down, and Jaskier moved into singing a soft lullaby.

Jaskier moved to set down his lute at the end of the song until Vesemir stopped him. “Just wait, Jaskier. I hear help arriving.” 

Eskel slipped into the room. “Eskel, will you run Lambert up to his bed? I’d like Julian to play a bit longer if he doesn’t mind.”

“I’ll be back in a few. Save a good song for me, Jules.” 

Jaskier stared after Eskel with wide eyes as he shut the door, looking at Vesemir with questions in his eyes. “I told you, bard. If you told me he didn’t want to hear you play, you’re a liar. Now play something old. I’ve never met a bard who knew songs from my childhood. You’re a rare treasure, and I appreciate you humoring an old man.” Jaskier blushed, singing a song of rain on the mountains, a lover gone missing, a boat lost at sea. 

When Eskel returned, he saw Geralt standing in the shadows of the hallway by the library, listening to the sweet lilt of the bard’s voice, drifting through songs and melodies older than both of them put together. As he put his hand on the door, he whispered, “He’ll never know you care if you never let him see you caring.” 

Eskel slipped in the door quietly, keeping his steps silent to not disturb the music. He refilled the bard’s water, and then placed himself on the rug where Lambert had been seated, and watched the bard smile as he sang. He started a song about a warrior's love, a brave fighter off to win honor and fame. He sang of love, of the turning of seasons, and finally, the oldest one he knew, a sweet rhyme about a man doting on the beauty of his golden eyed lover. Only Vesemir knew the song was originally written about a green eyed lass.


	24. Triss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tiny bit O Smut ahoy, marked off with **** again

After the bard’s song that was clearly not intended for him, Vesemir stood, thanked Jaskier and went to bed. Jaskier was visibly tired, and Eskel took his arm, helping him to his feet. He kept loose fingers around his elbow as they walked back to their rooms. Outside of Jaskier’s room, Eskel paused. “Thank you, for singing for us.” Jaskier stared at him with wide eyes.   
  
“You didn’t have to stay, tonight. I appreciated the company, though.”   
  
Eskel just smiled, as he slipped in his room. “I know I didn’t. I wanted to. Your singing is too beautiful to resist.” 

Jaskier’s face flushed scarlet, and he stared at Eskel’s shut door before shivering and bolting into the safety of his own room. 

\---- 

The next morning Lambert came screaming into Jaskier’s room, crashing into the sleeping bard. He was sobbing and clawing his way under the blankets, startling Jaskier awake. He rose up, immediately shoving the small boy beneath his body, then snatched his dagger from his boot on the floor. He just raised it, curling himself to be ready to defend the boy while still covering him with his body, hearing crashing feet echoing down the hall. Geralt and Eskel pounded up the hallway, appearing in the open door moments after Lambert flew through. Jaskier’s wide, scared eyes looked enormous, and Eskel was momentarily speechless at the shirtless bard before him. The pants he slept in rode low, showcasing the dip of his narrow waist. His broad shoulders and the wide plain of his chest were on display, with the ferocious snarl on his face, waiting for the threat that scared his boy.   
  
_“Eskel you’re lucky he can’t smell you.”_ Geralt hissed at his brother, soft enough Jaskier couldn’t hear. He was inundated by the heavy musk of Eskel’s lust, and punched him in the arm startling him out of his stupor. “Jaskier, is he ok? What happened?”   
  
Jaskier relaxed at seeing the two of them, dropping the dagger on the bed and curling his body around the trembling boy. “I don’t know, he just ran in screaming. Little one, sweetheart, my love, my darling, can you tell us what’s wrong?” Jaskier picked through the blankets, looking for Lambert’s face. Once he found it, he didn’t uncover him, leaving Lambert in his cave, and using the blankets to dry his tears. “Sweetness, little badger, what happened, tell us what frightened you. We have two very large witchers here ready to protect you.” Eskel made a soft noise, but Geralt put a hand on his shoulder. Geralt tipped his head at the heavy footsteps heading their way.   
  
“Boys, stand down. It was just Triss, and no, she did not even get to say hello to the boy. Let me talk to him, if he’s willing.” Vesemir waved them out, and raised an eyebrow at Eskel, who flushed and hurried out into the hallway to wait with Geralt.   
  
“Lambert, son. That was Triss. The sorceress we originally asked to visit to look at you. Jaskier said you even requested her to visit you in Oxenfurt? She is very kind, and gentle. I have known her for nearly 100 years now. She will not harm you, and she will not use magic on you without asking your permission first. We will be there with you. If you would like, I can ask her to put on the cuffs we have that do not allow her to use magic.”   
  
Lambert nodded. “If she can’t, I guess. I guess I can say hi but only if she can’t.”   
  
“Geralt, she likes you best. Go explain why your witch’s actions made them necessary. Thank you, son. We won’t let you down. Come down when you’re ready, send Eskel first so we know when to put them on.”   
  
“Eskel?”   
  
As Vesemir left, Eskel slipped back inside, and Jaskier put hand out, pulling the big witcher onto the bed. He curled around Lambert’s back, tangling his feet and his fingers with Jaskier’s. They stayed like that, quiet, with Jaskier’s head on the pillow, eyes closed and humming lullabies. Eskel just watched his face, unable to see Lambert from his angle. Eventually, he adjusted his weight so he could use his right hand to brush Jaskier’s fringe out of his face when Lambert finally spoke.   
  
“I’m hungry. Can I still have food if I go talk to her?”   
  
Eskel dug the blankets back and kissed him noisily on the forehead. “Lam, you’re the bravest person I know. I’m going to go down and tell them you’re ready, and make you food. Any requests?” Lambert shook his head.   
  
“I’d take toast, if you’re offering for me, too?”   
  
“Of course. With honey, and tea?” Jaskier just smiled, and coaxed Lambert up to get dressed for the day.   
  


\------

Triss sat primly at the head of the table, between Eskel and Geralt, both in full armor. Vesemir was in his armor, standing behind her. She had both hands on the table, curled around a mug of tea when Jaskier finally walked in carrying Lambert. He was dressed in his dark brown pants and billowing black shirt, and Lambert chose to wear his matching pants, with the bright red shirt Jaskier picked for him. The wolf medallion was on top of his shirt instead of hidden below for once, and Lambert’s hair was loose.  
  
“Good to meet you, Mistress Merigold. I’m sorry we missed you in Oxenfurt.” Jaskier slid into a chair at the other end of the table, where Eskel had left toast, fruit, and a small bowl of oats with jam. A mug of tea was there for both of them.   
  
“Hello, Professor Pankratz. I’m sure you’ve heard of what called me away, and I’m so glad to be here to help you and Vesemir’s little one. I understand he had some bad experiences with mages, and I’m happy to talk with him with the cuffs on.”   
  
Jaskier tensed at her words, and Eskel did his best to fight down a growl. He pushed the bowl of oats closer to Lambert, and whispered, “Do you have any questions, little mouse or shall I just start asking some for you?”   
  
Lambert shook his head, pressing back into Jaskier. “What is it you will do, exactly? Yennefer apparently interrogated him. He was afraid she was going to take him away.”   
  
“I just want to sense the magic surrounding him. Supposedly he reeks of inferior magic. It might give me a clue who did this, and how to fix it. It’s probably a curse. Geralt said he didn’t know who he was, he didn’t think he was Vesemir’s son.”   
  
Lambert was ashen white by the time she’d finished talking. Jaskier was quiet. “Lambert, is that all your questions? Can she check you, now?”   
  
“Can I. Can I go to my room. By myself. Please.” Jaskier released him immediately, and Lambert took the small bowl of oats and left.   
  
“Did that go well? I feel like it did, he’s not screaming anymore. My full apologies, Jaskier, I did not mean to disturb your morning. He saw me portal into the courtyard and got spooked.” Geralt took the cuffs off of her, and Triss swept down to sit next to the bard, taking his hand in one of hers. “Oh, Geralt, why am I not surprised, you have a thing for half elves don’t you?”   
  
“I’m sorry, what?” Jaskier blinked at Triss.   
  
Everyone else stared at Triss. “Wait, you didn’t _know?_ How old are you, Jaskier?” 

“Oh. I’m. Well, I guess I’m quite a bit younger than everyone here aren’t I. No need to be shy. Good thing, that. Hm. I’ll be 44 come Yule.”   
  
“You look barely 25, Jaskier,” Triss touched his face gently.   
  
“He looks maybe 19, without the beard.” Geralt growled, and stalked out of the room. 

“I don’t really know what that means, other than Yennefer was lying about crows feet.”   
  
“Jaskier, she’s half elf too- she recognized it in you. She was teasing, probably. You won't have to worry about crows feet for at least another hundred years or more. You don’t have the ears, but you have the eyes, and the beauty. May I?”   
  
Jaskier nodded, and her magic was soft and warm, inspecting him. She winked at him. “Oh, Jaskier. Yes, I think you ought to.”   
  
\-----------  
  
Eskel was feeding the goats in the far pasture, still mulling over Jaskier’s heritage. Hundreds of years, the bard could have. He didn’t even notice Geralt walking up behind him, as he scratched Lil’ Bleater’s back.   
  
“Eskel.”  
  
“You come to warn me off, wolf?”   
  
“What? No. I don’t think I could, if I wanted to. It’s not me he wants, Eskel.”  
  
“Geralt-”  
  
“Look. I just came to say he told me _he does not love me anymore._ If that’s what’s holding you back, just. Don’t. Make him smile, Eskel. Vesemir made it pretty clear all I ever did was make him cry.”  
  
“He’s not wrong. We went through Rinde.” Geralt cringed.  
  
“Yennefer?”   
  
“She’s a good mother to Ciri. We were going to bring Ciri here. She’s only a little older than he is now. I wanted to, if it was safe. Ciri wanted to see Jaskier, too. She misses him. He. He spent every winter with her.”   
  
“Except the last two. Because of Lambert.” Geralt nods.   
  
“He asked me to make it right, with you. Vesemir spent the night yelling at me. I tried to apologize, but when he looks at you with those eyes.”   
  
“It’s hard to think. I know.”   
  
“Just make him happy, Eskel.” 

  
\-----------------   
  


Vesemir had Lambert in the library, reading the boy a book. Jaskier decided he’d venture down to the hot springs while the boy was entertained. A soak sounded wonderful. On the way down, he ran into Eskel and Geralt coming back inside.   
  
“Oh! Hello boys. I’m off to the hot spring to drown myself before tomorrow. Lambert’s listening to stories from Vesemir, if you’re interested.”   
  
Geralt subtly nudged Eskel, “Next time, perhaps. I am going to go check on Merigold, make sure she doesn’t need any supplies for curse breaking.”   
  
“Ah, yes. Go woo the beautiful sorceress or don’t goodness don’t glare at me, alright, Eskel, my darling, my dear, if you’re coming could I beg you to give me another shave?”   
  
Geralt raised an eyebrow and Eskel flushed, herding Jaskier out into the hot spring’s hallway. They piled all of their clothing, both clad only in towels. Jaskier waved a small bag. “I was planning on just shaving myself don’t worry if you don’t want to-”   
  
Eskel crowded up against the bard, plucking the bag out of his hand. “Come sit down, there’s a nice chair over here.”   
  
And there was- Eskel pulled a long reclining chair out, and set to work with a hot towel, humming softly as he worked. He allowed his touches to linger, a thumb sliding up the long narrow line of muscle, fingers gently turning his face. He was focused on his job, but he could feel the weight of Jaskier’s eyes on him.   
  
Soon, he was done, and stepped back, helping Jaskier to his feet. The bard rose quietly. “Come on then, witcher, let me take care of you, now. Into the pool, I’ll wash your hair.” 

********************

  
Eskel turned away before dropping the towel, and slipped in the middle pool. Steam rose off of it, but it was a good bath temperature where the one above they used for soaking tight muscles. It would be far too hot for the bard approaching him. It was like he was slinking, hips swaying with the towel riding low on his hips. Eskel swallowed, looking away as Jaskier entered the pool. He dropped a small container at the edge, and beckoned Eskel over. Eskel glided over, Jaskier caught him and turned him around, pouring water carefully over his hair, washing it with strong, dexterous fingers. As he moved his massage down Eskel’s neck he couldn't help the deep moan it dragged out of him. He moved away from Jaskier, dunking his head under the water before gliding up to the bard, bracketing him between his arms. He held himself just a breath from touching him, waiting, waiting. He couldn’t push. His eyes searched those bright, brilliant blue ones, and he didn’t know if the lust he smelled was Jaskier's or his own.   
  
Jaskier just smiled, and pressed his hands to the witcher’s broad chest, sliding them up his neck, cradling his face. He leaned over, and softly kissed Eskel. A question, a request. Eskel could nothing but moan into his mouth, gripping the bard's hips and rolling his against a cock as hard and wanting as his own. “ _Fuck_ Jules a pool is not the best for this.”   
  
Jaskier licked into his mouth when he moaned again, biting his bottom lip and sucking on it. “I’d bring you to my bed but I _can’t_ .”   
  
“Fine, fuck, here just let me” Eskel lifted Jaskier up out of the pool, leveraging himself up out, crawling over top of Jaskier’s body to lift and press him up against the smooth side wall of the spring. “Fuck my room isn’t even safe is it why did you teach him not to _knock_ I just-”   
  
Eskel pressed himself against the bard, losing himself in the mouth of the most beautiful man he’d ever seen. Delicate hands touched his face, tipping his mouth in close, sliding through his his hair, and back down the witcher's broad chest. Eskel rutted against him desperately, hands unable to stay still, sliding down that narrow waist, marveling in the thick hair on that beautiful chest and finally sliding up his throat to cradle his face, kissing and biting down his way down Julian’s neck. The bard's hands flitted across his wide, wide chest rolling his nipples, scratching gently down his ribcage and trailing down his waist, gripping his hips to press him tight and close “You’re so beautiful, Julian. The prettiest songbird I’ve ever seen, the most beautiful wolf I’ve ever met. Howl for me.” And Julian came with a cry, shaking, Eskel shuddering his release at the feel of Julian falling apart in his arms. 

**************************

He led them carefully back into the pool, washing off their mess. He found he didn’t want to let go of Jaskier’s fingers They fumbled through getting dressed, and walking back to their rooms, finger still intertwined. “Lambert’s in his bed, asleep. Can hear him,” Eskel murmured into Jaskier’s mouth, pressing the brilliant, beautiful man against his bedroom door. “Somehow however, I think we shouldn’t count on that.”   
  
“Stay, please? Just. stay.” Jaskier gripped Eskel's damp shirt, unwilling to let go.   
  
Eskel just nodded, and they curled up together in Jaskier’s room, sharing soft kisses before falling asleep. 

\------  
  
They were only asleep for a few hours before Lambert came sneaking in. He climbed in between them, burrowing down in the blankets, crying.   
  
Eskel did his best to pull Lambert close, to leave Jaskier to sleep but the bard grumbled and wrapped his arms around the boy. “What is it, Lam?”   
  
“I’m scared.”   
  
“Want me to stay, or go, and do you want to wake up your dad too?” Lambert nods, so Eskel shook Jaskier gently.   
  
“Is he really my dad? Vesemir keeps saying he’s my dad. That I’m really someone else. I don’t want them to take me away, I want to go home. Eskel don’t let them take me away. I _love_ him.”   
  
Jaskier squeezed Lambert. “Oh little one. You will always be a son to me. But… before you were cursed, I guess, you were Vesemir’s boy. He loves you as much as I do, I think. No one is taking you anywhere, though. You are still you. If Triss says it is safe for you to stay as you are, you can stay as you are.”

Eskel wraps them both in his big arms. “Lambert as long as it’s safe for you to stay as you are, I promise I’ll do everything I can to keep you safe, to keep you with Julian. Not even Vesemir could take you anywhere if Julian says no. I won’t allow it.”   
  
"Isn't Vesemir your dad, Eskel? He calls you son."   
  
"Sort of, Lam."   
  
"You'd tell him no? You'd stop him?"  
  
"For Julian? For you? I'd tell the _world_ no." 


	25. The Viscount Speaks

Jaskier woke up to Eskel’s hands sliding his shirt up as he kissed his way down the bard’s stomach. “Esk- what where’s-”    
  
“Was hungry. He’s off to find Vesemir, told him Triss is never up this early. I promised to wake you.”   
  
“This is certainly a wake up, oh I am not complaining.” Jaskier gasped as Eskel ran his teeth over his hip, large hands gripping his hips.   
  
“I - ah, damn it.” Eskel stood, doing his best to adjust himself and throwing a blanket over a sputtering Jaskier. He swung the door open, startling Lambert who was carrying a breakfast tray. Vesemir walked behind him, carrying a second tray. Vesemir smirked at his bare chest and the joined scents that told the old man  _ exactly  _ what had been transpiring. Eskel’s face turned scarlet, and he took the tray from Lambert.    
  
“Lambert was still unsure about being around Triss, so he asked to have breakfast up here.”    
  
They clambered on the bed, Vesemir sitting on the small chair, picking fruit out of the bowl as they talked about the day’s plans. Lambert slowly relaxed, laughing and begging to be in charge of the animals again. He was delighted by how excited the goats and horses got to see someone arrive with food. 

It took two full days of calm, taking breakfasts in the bedroom and Triss carefully sitting at the far end of the table with Vesemir at supper before Lambert started to relax around her. Lambert slept every night with Jaskier, and Eskel retreated to his room, doing his best to leave Lambert space to feel independent again. Early the third morning, Geralt and Eskel went out hunting. Lambert watched the horses trudge away from the outer wall, standing beside Jaskier.    
  
“I guess Triss is okay.” Lambert said quietly, picking at the strap of his drum.    
  
“It seems so. She’s done her best not to scare you again. She keeps her distance, that’s very kind of her.”   
  
“I still don’t like her.”   
  
“You don’t have to, sweetness. I’m proud of you for being respectful though. I guess those manners lessons paid off. Would you like to go play now? There’s a nice balcony I like. It’s got a lovely view.”   
  
“No, I like how the sound bounces in the courtyard instead. We can talk to Triss when Eskel gets back, okay?”   
  
“If you’re ready. Then we can decide together what happens, okay?”   
  
Vesemir knew the mood had finally lifted as the sound of music echoed across halls of the keep. Jaskier and Lambert sat cross legged in the center of the training grounds, facing each other. It was the same ground that Eskel had filled with an explosive igni, lighting the dark corners in a flash of power. Lambert’s little drum beat with confidence and joy, his sweet voice with Jaskier’s rich accompaniment, filled the same halls and corners with a warmth that lasted well after they stopped playing. 

Jaskier dragged the small boy to the hot spring, finding the lowest one and tossing him in. As Lambert splashed into the water cackling and laughing, he swam around. Jaskier rolled up his trouser legs and sat with his feet hanging in the water. Lambert peeled off his now soaked clothing, shoving them up on the ledge before spitting a stream of water at Jaskier who splashed him back, laughing.    
  
“Jas, will you cut my hair?”   
  
“Of course, little one. Come on out, you can finish washing after it’s cut. Can I ask why you want it cut now?”   
  
“The man in the forest, he caught me by my hair. I want to be as strong as Eskel, and I can’t if they’re pulling my hair.”    
  
Jaskier combed his fingers through Lambert’s hair, which was now at his waist. He’d miss braiding it, but the fear of it being a weakness was reasonable. “Alright, how short do you want it? Geralt keeps his just past his shoulders, that’s still pretty long.”    
  
“No, I want it like yours, longer than Eskel’s. But still can put it in a ponytail. Can you do that?”    
  
“Anything for you, little one.” Jaskier kissed him on top of his head, tying off a low braid. He paused, waiting for Lambert to nod. He cringed, hating it, but sliced off the braid. It hung in his hand, nearly a foot of hair. Jaskier curled it up, and stuck it in his pocket.    
  
Lambert shook his head, the weight of so much hair gone, and laughed. Jaskier ran his fingers through, and soon after his scissors had given the boy hair a bit shorter than Geralt’s. It was choppy enough to have volume, but still be mostly tied up. He looked so serious, and so much older this way. So Jaskier cut the front with some layers to frame his face, so when his hair was pulled back the widow’s peak was less stark. He still had a little bit of fringe he could hide his eyes behind if he tilted his head the right way as Eskel was in the habit of doing. He was delighted when handed a mirror and attacked Jaskier with a hug, kissing his face before Jaskier herded him under the shower to wash the small bits of hair off before he dove back in the pool to wash and play. 

\-----

  
Eskel didn’t arrive until just before dinner. He walked into the keep with a deer over his shoulder. Geralt had taken the horses to stable, having lost the bet on who would bag the biggest trophy. Lambert had seen them coming from the top of the wall, and came tearing around the corner, flying past Geralt, who laughed at how neither Scorpion nor Roach were the least startled by the child’s antics.    
  
He sped around the corner, Eskel dropping his load as he’d heard the boy coming, catching him and tossing him up in the air. “What happened to you, little beast? I can see your face now!”    
  
“Jaskier cut my hair! Do you like it?”    
  
“You look terribly handsome, whatever will I do? Are you trying to take the title of prettiest man in the keep from your dad?”    
  
“Oh I’m going to tell him you called him  _ pretty.  _ I bet his face will be redder than your shirt.”   
  
“Don’t you tease, you feral child. Come on, let’s get these to Vesemir. Can you carry that turkey or you going to drag it again?”   
  
He dragged it.   
  
\----------   
  
After dinner, and many compliments on Lambert’s new haircut, Jaskier turned to Triss. “Lambert said he’s ready, if you’re willing to look at him and give us some answers as to what happened.”   
  
“Of course. Why don’t we do this in the library? I saw your dad reading to you the other day. I bet that’s a nice safe space, yes? Sometimes this can feel a little overwhelming, so a safe warm place might help him. It won’t hurt, but I don’t know what memories might be jarred loose when I look. Vesemir, I might suggest you hold him in your lap, if I have to look at his memories. A comforting touch can help.”    
  
They sat Lambert in front of the fire, scowling at Triss, and Jaskier wrapped the large blanket from his bed around him. Triss sat delicately in front of him, waving Jaskier back to give them space. Geralt had stayed back, leaning on a chair near the door. Eskel pulled Jaskier back behind Triss, where Lambert could see them. “I’m just going to see what this is, first, ok?” Triss held a hand out for Lambert to hold, frowning as she searched Lambert’s small face. All the medallions in the room started to hum. Eskel slid his arm around Jaskier’s waist, tucking the bard tight next to him.    
  
Triss looked up at Vesemir, who had positioned himself facing her. “Well, it’s definitely a curse, and a messy one at that. I can’t tell what the  _ purpose _ of it is, but it’s stable. I don’t think it actually did what it was meant to, it’s almost like it shattered. Not that you doubted any more, but this is your Lambert, Ves. I’m not entirely sure how to undo this… but I have an idea. So.” Triss looked up at the eldest witcher, “Vesemir, are we fixing your son? ”    
  
Lambert went rigid, eyes flashing. “Stop that.”   
  
Everyone froze at the anger in the small voice, as Lambert stood up, finished with the sorceress. “Just  _ stop it.  _ Why are you both so  _ mean.  _ Vesemir is not my dad, you keep calling him my dad.” He held the blanket with one fist, and pointed imperiously. Chin up, shoulders back. Just like Jaskier taught him when you needed to intimidate. “My  _ dad _ is Julian Alfred Pankratz. He gave me his  _ name.  _ It is  _ legal.  _ I am Lambert Pankratz, Viscount of Lettenhove  _ and you will not take me away from my father.”  _ _   
_ _   
_ Lambert suddenly wobbled, his eyes scared. He stumbled backward before collapsing. The room shattered into a bright light, the shockwave sending Geralt and Vesemir tumbling backwards. Triss was the closest, and the backlash knocked her unconscious. Eskel had managed to cross his wrists around Jaskier’s body at the last moment, heliotrope deflecting the majority of the shockwave, but it was a shoddy, panicked one and Jaskier was limp in his arms.    
  
Eskel looked around the room, horrified, before laying Jaskier down gently and scrambling to the lump that was Lambert underneath the blanket. 


	26. Shattered

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lil bit of smut again at the end. Marked off with ****

Lambert opened his eyes slowly, his head woozy. It hurt like the time he and Eskel drank all that Black Gull and took turns Aarding each other off the keep wall into a particularly large snowdrift.   
  
“Fuck.” He slowly levered himself up and suddenly Eskel was there, his hands were holding his face looking more scared than he’d ever seen him. “The fuck?”   
  
“Lam, are you okay? The curse breaking knocked everyone flat, even shattered my Heliotrope.”   
  
Eskel’s hands were all over his arms, his shoulders and then Lambert’s caught sight of Jaskier, unconscious on the floor. “Dad?”   
  
Oh. Oh no. Lambert snatched the blanket around his waist, and bolted from the room, knocking Eskel on his ass as he tore out.   
  
\-----   
  
Eskel watched Lambert bolt from the room. He wasn’t sure how much Lambert remembered, but it had to be some of it since he called Jaskier Dad. Shit, he called him _Dad_ , Lambert had _never_ done that with Vesemir.   
  
Well, if he was good enough to run it could wait until he made sure Jaskier was okay. He lifted the bard into his lap, brushing the hair out of his face. He rocked him slowly, pressing his forehead against his bard’s as he heard Geralt and Vesemir come around.   
  
“Eskel? What - Where’s Lambert?” Vesemir grunted.   
  
Geralt, however, came over and gently pried the bard out of his brother’s arms. “Eskel. Give him, I’ll take care of him. I’ve done it before, remember? Go find Lambert. Until Jaskier is okay, you’re all we’ve got to keep him from running.” Eskel finally let go, and slipped out the door.   
  
Vesemir was kneeling over Triss, as she slowly blinked her eyes and sat up with his help. “Oh, Vesemir. I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize-”   
  
“I’m just a foolish old man, Triss, I should’ve seen that troubling him.”   
  
Geralt was quiet, holding Jaskier close. He waited until Triss was standing before he brought Jaskier over. Triss brushed a hand across the bard’s head, smiling. “He’ll be okay now, go take him up to his room and let him rest.” So Geralt cradled his head to his chest, and carried him back to Eskel’s room. He laid the bard into his brother’s bed, removing his boots and tucking the blankets around him, settling down to meditate beside the bed.   
  
\----------------   
  
He was _naked_ what the hell. Lambert ran to his room, fuck, wrong room none of these clothes would fit his room is the next floor. He ran to his old? new? actual? room, throwing on clothes and then throwing himself out the window, onto the roof where he ran across to the tower that overlooked the courtyard. He climbed the outer wall, rolling his body up into the window, and pressed himself back in a corner, breathing hard.   
  
This wasn’t supposed to happen. Jaskier promised they’d talk about it, decide together, and Lambert just ruined it all. He had a dad, who loved him, he had a home and music and a horse, oh no, would Nightmare even recognize him?   
  
Lambert was hyperventilating and he knew it, but he couldn’t stop the thoughts racing, his memories of the past two years crashing together until he was on his hands and knees, sobbing. It was then that Eskel managed to wrench the door open and fell bodily inside.   
  
“You broke the fucking door you _asshole_ ” Lambert lunged at Eskel, attacking blind with tears. 

“Lambert, stop it, stop it, you are _okay_ , I’m _still here.”_ Eskel managed to pin Lambert to the ground, arm twisted around his back, sitting on his hips as Lambert thrashed. 

“Get the fuck off of me you big dumb ox!”   
  
“ _He still loves you!”_ Eskel roared.   
  
All the fight went out of Lambert, and Eskel gathered him up in his arms and let him cry. 

\---------

  
Jaskier woke to see Geralt meditating beside him, head groggy. He sat up, panicked, remembering Lambert’s angry rant at Triss before Eskel had yanked him in front of him and the world went white.   
  
“Geralt?!”   
  
The witcher’s eyes were already open, and he rose up onto his feet. “Jaskier, take a breath. They’re on their way back now. Eskel asked me to keep an eye on you. I just.” He took a breath, and glanced back from the door. “You were a good father to him. Thank you.”   
  
Not two minutes later, Jaskier still hadn’t fully wrapped his head around Geralt’s words before Eskel came dragging a snarling witcher, tossing him bodily in the room, and shutting the door behind him. He turned immediately and attacked the door, pounding on it screaming at Eskel.   
  
Jaskier slid out of bed, approaching the witcher cautiously. He had on the typical leather witcher pants and a deep red shirt, and when Jaskier touched his shoulder he turned and snarled. Jaskier may not have met him before in this body, but he had seen that face angry and afraid, and though it was older now, and the body taller and broader than his own, he knew this body language. He slid his hand slowly around Lambert’s face, pulling him slowly, gently, into a hug. The moment Jaskier stepped between him and the door, Lambert gave in, crushing Jaskier into a tight hug.   
  
“Oh, little one. Why are you afraid of me now? No one expected you to break the curse on your own. Come on, talk to me. You know I love you, and will always love you, right?”   
  
Lambert tensed. “I can’t be your little boy anymore. I'm this _freak_ again. I had a family, a home and I _threw it all away.”_ _  
_ _  
_ “You know, I told you you’d be taller than me soon, but I didn’t really expect quite so soon. Come, let me look at you.” Jaskier lifted his arms, inspected his hands, slid his hair back and looked long and hard at the face in front of him. He pushed the young witcher back so he was sitting on Eskel’s bed. Jaskier traced the scar that went down over his right eye, then cupped his face in his hands, looking at the eyes that were so familiar, now golden. He kissed him on the forehead, and stepped between Lambert’s legs, drawing him close and hugging him tightly. 

“Do you know what I see when I look at you, Lambert? Right now, do you know what I saw?” Lambert swallowed, shaking his head and pressing his face into Jaskier’s stomach so he could cry without being seen. Jaskier bent close, brushing Lambert’s hair up out of his face, cradling his head. He pressed his nose onto the top of Lambert’s head, and whispered, “All I see, is my son. Who I gave my name, gave my title, and would give my life for. All I see is the boy who helped heal my broken heart, now a man who will hopefully let me love him for the rest of my days.”   
  
Lambert just sobbed. He'd already cried himself dry with Eskel, and now was just exhausting himself. Jaskier just clung to him, crying too, and once they both finally quieted down, Eskel slipped back in, relighting the fire for the night. He nudged them both into letting him remove their boots, then tucked them both back down into his bed. They were both exhausted, and unwilling or unable to resist Eskel's guidance. He tucked the blankets down around them both, and even thorough the exahustion, Lambert’s golden eyes watched him slip back out of the room.   
  
\----------------   
  
Lambert woke to find Jaskier asleep on his chest, drooling. He poked him in the head until Jaskier muttered, blearily sitting up, nearly sending the tray on the table beside him flying. Lambert’s quick reflexes caught it, and they both started laughing.   
  
“Looks like someone brought us breakfast.”   
  
“Yeah, Eskel.”   
  
“How- wait. Yeah. The nose.” Jaskier booped his nose gently. “How useful.” Lambert bit at his finger, scowling. “Oh don’t give me that you little badger, I spent two years, I know that face. And no pouting.”   
  
“I am sitting in bed, with my dad, who smells like my brother and sex. _I did not miss the sense of smell.”_ _  
_ _  
_ Jaskier choked, trying not to laugh but utterly failing. “Well, I suppose I never did talk to you about that. You see, sometime when adults like each other quite a lot, they can express those affections by-”   
  
“Don’t you dare finish that sentence!” Lambert roared, playfully attempting to smother Jaskier with a pillow as they wrestled, laughing. This time, the tray did crash to the ground, but neither cared. Lambert let Jaskier overpower him, sitting on his stomach beating him with the pillow.   
  
“See if I give you all the best strawberries next time, you enormous hairy badger, I’ll eat them all myself!”   
  
Lambert laughed, loud and carefree, snatching Jaskier into a hug and carrying him right out the door. “Where are we going, put me down, you great brat.”   
  
Lambert tossed him on the bed in his little room across the hall, shaking his head. Small clothes and toys were everywhere. He knelt on the floor in front of Jaskier. “I know I ought to go back out on the Path. But I’m going to miss you.”   
  
“Lambert, sweetheart? Look at me. I know you and your witchery nose can smell my honesty. I love you. I will always love you. I only recently found out that ‘always’ for me is going to be a lot longer than I expected, but I am glad. You will always be my son, and no matter where I am, whether you walk the Path, carry a sword or a drum, you will have a place by my side, in my home. I promised Vesemir that once we got you sorted I would leave, go back to Oxenfurt, but that is me going back to our home, to buy you a bigger bed. I am not leaving you, and I never, ever will.”   
  


“I have to leave you, though, Dad. There’s someone… Someone I need to find. And it’s been over two years, they probably think I’m dead. I never told anyone about them because I was so afraid, I thought. I thought some stupid damn things, okay? But. I love them and I need to find them. I want … I want you to meet them. Is that okay?”   
  
Jaskier wiped the tears from his boy's face, and kissed each cheek. “Go get them, bring them to me in Oxenfurt. And. I guess you’ll need a bigger bed than I thought. I might need a different apartment.”   
  
“Keep the apartment, Dad. Please?”   
  
“Anything you ask for, my little one. Anything for you.”   
  
Lambert laughed, pressing his face into Jaskier’s lap. “I’m bigger than you, now, are you going to keep calling me little?”   
  
“Is it embarrassing?”   
  
Lambert raised his eyebrows. Of course it was, but just a little.   
  
“Then yes, _absolutely.”_

  
\----   
  
The rest of the day was strange, with Lambert mostly hidden away talking with Geralt and Eskel. They talked about the last two years, about the search, about Cintra. Geralt finally talked about Yennefer and Ciri. Lambert told them about Lettenhove. Eskel told them about the brilliance of Julian the professor. Jaskier spent the day packing, and planning. 

Dinner that night was a strange affair. Triss, Geralt and Vesemir all sat together at one end of the table. Lambert crowded close to Jaskier, sitting between him and the others, as if he might need to snatch him up and run away. Eskel saw this, and sat across the table from Lambert, giving him space.   
  
Unfortunately, Vesemir couldn’t stop staring at Lambert, who finally snapped at him. “Knock it the fuck off it’s not like you forgot what I looked like in the last two years.”   
  
Triss smothered a laugh. Eskel smiled wryly at Jaskier. “Did we have to change him back? He was so cute and sweet when he was young. So much better behaved.”   
  
“The _fuck_ you say?!” Lambert launched himself across the table, tackling Eskel and doing his best to wrestle him to the ground. “I’ll show you _cute_ you thick headed moldy potato!”   
  
The wrestling quickly devolved into laughter, as Eskel was unwilling to hurt his little brother, and Lambert had a never ending well of Jaskier’s most ridiculous insults. They piled back on the bench together, and Jaskier slid Lambert’s plate across to him with a patient smile. “Thanks Dad.”   
  
Lambert noticed the other end of the table tense at his casual affection before leveling a glare. “You got a problem with my dad, or me, I’ll take us straight off your hands you won’t ever have to see us again.”   
  
Geralt looked appalled, Vesemir ashamed, and Triss sad. It was Triss who chose to speak, however. “Lambert, I owe you an apology. I assumed your relationship with Vesemir was the same as it was previously. I didn’t realize the shift, and I’m sorry. Vesemir explained more to me while you rested. 

  
After eating, Lambert ducked his head into Jaskier’s, knocking his forehead against Jaskier’s head. “Gotta go talk to Geralt some more. I’ll talk to you in the morning, ok?” He slid his eyes to Eskel, who did his best not to blush and show he overheard. Geralt, however, sat tall and stiff, eyes wide. Lambert turned slowly, a wide feral grin. “Come on wolfy. I need to talk to you about a mountain.”   
  
\--------   
  
Eskel tapped on Jaskier’s room door, opening it slowly. “Ah, Jules, why the tears?” He slipped inside, shutting the door behind him. Jaskier was curled up in a ball on the bed, and held out the braid of hair. Eskel took it gently, setting it on the table beside him. “You didn’t lose him, he’s here. He’ll tear the world apart to keep you, like you were ready to burn it down for him.”   
  
Jaskier released a shuddering breath, big blue eyes wide and sad. “I know. He just. He doesn’t need me to protect him anymore. He was my small, lovely, sweet child and now I’m pretty sure he’s kicking Geralt’s ass because I may have told him stories about our travels before I met him. I didn’t… know he knew Geralt. And well. He’s clever.”   
  
“Why do you think I beat the shit out of him? Vesemir was clever, kept you guys busy for the majority of our fight.”   
  
Jaskier let out a wet laugh, rubbing his face with a sleeve. “Oh, you silly man.”   
  
“Jules, if it helps, I really will miss raising him with you. Come here. Let me help you forget for just a little while, alright?”   
  
“Usually crying puts people off of having sex with me, clearly something is wrong with you.” Jaskier babbled as Eskel climbed on the bed, and slowly up Jaskier’s body, straddling him.   
  
“There is _nothing_ wrong with wanting you, Jules. And honestly, I’m a little heartbroken that I broke my promise to take you both back home. So please, sweetheart,” Eskel had his face pressed in Jaskier’s neck, trembling slightly.  
  
Jaskier whispered, small and scared. "Eskel, yes, please. I think I need you. "   
  


  
  
  


********************

Eskel kissed his way gently up Jaskier’s neck, sitting back on his heels, pulling Jaskier up to a sitting position. He ran his hands up the bard’s sides, sliding his shirt off in one smooth motion. Jaskier wrapped his arms around Eskel’s neck, pulling him in for a soft kiss, running a tongue along his bottom lip. 

“Jules, tell me you have oil.” Jaskier’s face was priceless. “Are you kidding? Jules. None?” Jaskier shook his head.  
  
“I wasn’t, looking? I haven’t, besides you, in so long. Can we not do this now? Even with out it Eskel, please.”   
  
“Lucky for you, professor, I bought a bottle, just on the sheer hope that maybe you’d let me use it. Come on.” Jaskier laughed as Eskel lifted him up. He wrapped his legs around the witcher, cradling his face in his hands and kissing his entire face.   
  
Eskel carried him across the hall, squatting down when the bard refused to let go. He dug into his bag, and came out with a small green vial. “See? Now, let me see what I can do to turn that beautiful brain off.”

  
He laid Jaskier down on his bed, undressing him gently before stripping himself and sliding in beside the bard. “Come on, Jules. Tell me what you want, I’ll give it to you. Just say the word.” Eskel laid down beside him and shifted one long slender leg up around his waist, clever oiled fingers working the bard open while Eskel worshipped the man below him. He curled around him, kissing deep and filthy, swallowing the cries as he worked him open. Only after the bard came, keening, back arching into Eskel did he soothe his hands down Julian’s legs calming the trembling.   
  
“Julian, let me see your eyes.” Eskel sunk four fingers into him before he was satisfied. “What do you want, sweetheart? He finally slicked himself, rolling the bard onto his back and hitching his legs up around his waist before sliding slowly, deep into the bard. Jaskier keened, arching and clinging, pulling Eskel down into him. He coaxed Eskel down into a desperate kiss, before pressing their foreheads together. “Eskel. Make me feel it. Make me forget today, but feel you in my bones until next week.”


	27. Plans and Portals

Lambert knocked softly on Eskel’s door. He could hear them in there, but considering the smell very much did not want to just walk in. A moment later, he heard Eskel’s soft laugh and Jaskier called back “Come here, you overgrown puppy.”  
  
Lambert slunk in, kneeling by the bed. “God the room smells like sex, fuck you both. Don’t even say it, Eskel.” Eskel just laughed again and flopped back on the bed. Thankfully, wearing a shirt. “Jas. Dad. Did you think I wouldn’t come harass you in the morning? I’m gonna go sort out new weapons, we left my daggers… Well. Everywhere. But you really won’t be upset if I leave soon?”   
  
Jaskier pulled him up half onto the bed and into a hug, kissing his cheek. “I already told you, and I won’t change my mind. Go, gather your things. Your old potion bag is currently holding your old clothes, I think. You’ll have to pout at Eskel for more potions, or brew your own, I’m sorry.”   
  
“Nah, I made Geralt give me all of his last night. It’ll take a day or two to restock my bombs though, and then I’ll head out?”   
  
Jaskier kisses his cheek, brushing fingers down the scar across his eye. “Go, be safe. I’ll be waiting like I promised. We’ll figure it out more from there.” 

Eskel slid his arms around the bard as Lambert left, pulling Jaskier’s back flush his chest, propping his chin on a broad shoulder. “What plans?” 

“Someone he needs to look for, now. Though I suspect they’d been looking for him this whole time as well.”  
  
Eskel buried his nose in Jaskier’s hair, breathing in deep the chamomile and pine. It was tinged with sadness and sex, so Eskel just whispered, “I know I said it once already, but I really will miss raising him with you.”   
  
Jaskier rolled on to his knees, cupping Eskel’s face and giving him a soft kiss. “Yes. I’ll miss it too. But, it looks like I’ve got things to do now, and so do you. So. Thank you. For all you did for him.” He slid from the bed, dressing quickly before leaving Eskel in bed with a smile and a wave, disappearing into his own room. 

\----------------

Jaskier finds Vesemir and Triss in the library. “Hello. I was hoping to talk to you while the boys were busy.”   
  
Vesemir waved him in, gesturing at a soft chair. “How can I help you, Jaskier?”   
  
“I did say that I’d leave when this was resolved? I didn’t exactly foresee this resolution. Well, okay. I knew it was a possibility when Eskel told me who Lambert was. But I don’t think it’s a surprise I had wished to keep him small.”   
  
“Considering his reaction, I think he would’ve preferred it as well. I suppose I should thank you. You did a good job raising him. He was a happier child with you than when I had known him the same age. I always loved the boys who came through here, these last three especially as sons. But we couldn’t afford the softness you’ve given him. Too much loss. Lambert has always hated the hand destiny gave him. I only hope his time with you has healed that.”   
  
“I know he doesn’t mean to hurt you. He never called me Dad before… I’m not sorry, I’ll treasure it forever. But I see you flinch every time, and I am sorry for that. But that’s not really why I came. Lambert has plans he needs to attend to, someone he needs to find, and for that a horse would help. I bought Nightmare for him anyway so I’ll be leaving her and the camping supplies for him, but that would leave me rather at a loss. So I came to beg a pack, and if Triss is feeling especially kind, a portal to Oxenfurt.”   
  
“Oh, Jaskier. I’d be happy to help out. Just come to me when you’re ready to go, alright?”   
  
Vesemir grunted, standing, “Bard, you gave me days with music, a glimpse of the boy Lambert should have been, and most importantly, Lambert himself. A bag is the very least I could do. Please know we owe you all, and you are welcome at Kaer Morhen. You _and_ your music.”   
  
\--------

  
Triss finds Lambert in the armory, tending to his swords and picking out new daggers to replace the ones lost. “Lambert, Jaskier said you had someone you needed to look for? I already portaled him back home, and promised I’d portal you anywhere you asked. I can try and scry for them, or just send you to a city you pick.”   
  
Lambert set down the dagger. He cocked his head, listening to Eskel and Geralt spar in the training ground. “What do you mean you portaled my dad home.”   
  
“Oxenfurt, just as he asked? He had a bag packed. He said he was leaving Nightmare for you as she was your horse anyway and you needed her to find someone.”   
  
“Oh fuck that enormous incompetent fool. I did not think that anyone could be stupider than Geralt but clearly _I was wrong.”_ Lambert stalked out of the armory into the courtyard bellowing “ESKEL!” All three witchers stopped, staring at the youngest on a warpath. Before any of them could react, he roared, hitting Eskel with an aard that sent him flying backwards, crashing into the wall. Eskel threw a hand up as Lambert dove on him punching him wildly with both fists.   
  
“Lambert! What the fuck?”   
  
Vesemir grabbed Lambert by the collar, pulling him off Eskel who had refused to fight back, only attempting to block the punches. “Talk, Lambert, or did that bard teach you nothing?”   
  
“I told you I would fucking stab you if you hurt him,” Lambert hissed, scrabbling to escape Vesemir’s tight grip. “He _left.”_ _  
_ _  
_ “What?” Eskel’s face fell, all color draining. Geralt reached forward, helping Eskel stand unsteadily with a hand to his elbow. He didn’t let go, ready to step in and help Vesemir restrain Lambert.   
  
“What did you _say to him_ Eskel I will _end you_ he was okay and then I left him alone with you and the next thing I know he’s _left.”_ Lambert pressed all of his weight forward, near choking himself as he strained to reach Eskel, snarling.   
  
“I didn’t hurt him! I _love him_ , Lambert, you know that. He talked about your plans on the path, and we talked about. Well. Missing taking care of you. And he kissed me and said thank you, and left?”   
  
“Did you tell _him_ you love him you stupid ogre I’ve seen how you have looked at him for months now, but _did you ever tell him?”_ _  
_ _  
_ Eskel collapsed to his knees, quiet. “No.”   
  
“ _No one has ever told him they loved him except me._ He has no idea you’d ever want to keep him you brainless lump. If you do not go after him right now and fix this you great fucking moron, the next time I see you I will _eviscerate_ you.” Lambert jerked away, stalking back into the armory, and the loud crashing made it clear he was absolutely destroying every training dummy stored in there.   
  
Vesemir cleared his throat. “Did he knock your brain loose, or are you going to go get your bard?”   
  
Eskel startled, cursed, and took off to find Triss. 

  
  



	28. Everything

  
Triss had left the yard when Lambert took off after Eskel, not willing to get involved with the fighting. She had just settled down with a cup of tea in the library when Eskel burst in. “When did he leave?”   
  
“Eskel? Oh, awhile ago? Not long after you’d headed out for chores. He’d said he wanted to ask for a bag and a portal, so Vesemir gave him a pack and he headed out shortly after. Why are you upset?”   
  
“Triss, I need to go after him.”   
  
Triss backed away, Eskel’s bleeding face and stress making her nerves jangle. “Eskel, I really don’t know if I should, you’re bleeding and upset. I think perhaps I should ask-”   
  
“Triss,” Vesemir appeared in the doorway. “He does need to go but he can’t run after him like a wild thing. I thought Geralt was the one who made all the stupid ass decisions but clearly you’re trying for the title.  _ What would you do when you got there, boy?”  _ _   
_ _   
_ Eskel stared at Vesemir with wide eyes before the man dropped his face in his palm. “How did I raise such a great bloody idiot, Eskel go get your damn armor, you are really going across the continent with no armor, no swords, no supplies and leaving your horse here?”   
  
He tore off up through the hallway, crashing into his room. He stilled himself, taking a deep breath. He repacked his bags as always, years of packing them for the spring made the task routine and simple. He checked his potions, his armor, and double checked his swords. Throwing the bags over his shoulder, and far calmer for the routine of preparation, he took off down the hall towards the stables.    
  
Geralt already had Scorpion saddled, while Vesemir handed him bags to tie on. Eskel stood stunned when he walked into the stables to see Scorpion nearly ready to go. His thanks were low and quiet, and Geralt knew they were for more than just saddling a horse. He nodded, handing the reins to him. Lil Bleater would stay here again. He felt guilty, but if he could win back Jaskier, he wouldn’t be alone on the path as he usually was. His sweet little goat kept him company, but she’d be just as happy here with her herd. 

  
Eskel led a placid Scorpion out towards the keep entrance, where Triss stood waiting. Lambert perched on a barrel next to her. She spun out the portal with a smile, Eskel pulled Scorpion towards it, but Lambert jumped down and stood in front of the portal blocking him. He pointed the dagger at Eskel. Shoulders back, chin high, Eskel noted. Just like Julian taught him. It actually did make him look far more commanding. He looked less a feral badger that would tear your throat out with its teeth, and far more lethal and dangerous. Eskel waited, as Lambert stared at him. “Don’t fuck this up, Eskel.”    
  
“Lambchop, you remember Ard Carraigh? You asked me to hold him tight, and not let him go. This is me, not letting go.”    
  
A beat later, Lambert stepped out of the way and told him, “Tell him I’ll be there for Midinváerne.”    
  
Nodding, Eskel stepped through the portal.    
  
\------   
  
Jaskier stepped through the portal, happy to be back in Oxenfurt. It wasn’t ideal, but it was home well enough. It held far more fond memories now, though. He hurried through the gates of the city intent on dropping his bag in his apartment and then going to find Essi. He had far too long before Lambert would arrive. Knowing his child, he’d relish the freedom to climb and explore, even while intent on his task.

Jaskier hoped he wouldn’t get too mad that he had taken Lambert’s filled journal to leave in his room here. He wasn’t going to read it, he just wanted to keep every last remnant of his tiny child. He traded Lambert for a bag of coin he’d left on top of his saddlebags. They never did spend all of what he’d gotten in Lettenhove, living off of his pay from Oxenfurt and Eskel’s contracts. Well, if Lambert complained it could be argued it was technically his money anyway. 

Essi was just finishing a lecture when Jaskier found her, and she hooked her arm in his and delightedly pulled him along to a bar. She’d always been a whirlwind, and soon he found himself at a table with ale in his hand. They curled up together in a corner of the bar, pressed side by side while he told her everything she missed. She’d always been a good friend to him, and he dearly loved having her to talk to. When she asked where Eskel was, however, he just shook his head. “He thanked me for raising Lambert. Said he would miss it. He was kind, and sweet. I guess I should have seen it coming, Essi.”    
  
\---------   
  
Triss dropped Eskel in the courtyard behind her apartment in Oxenfurt. Scorpion was stabled in the same stables as last time, the stable hand well familiar with Eskel. He hadn’t seen the bard when Eskel asked, but with him not bringing Nightmare, the witcher knew it was unlikely. 

  
He still had a key from the winter, hidden in the bottom of his bag. He’d kept it as a memory when they left, hoping Geralt would forgive him his weakness in bedding the beautiful man. He found Jaskier’s bag, but not the bard himself.    
  
Eskel tried the dean, who was delighted to hear Julian was in town, but hadn’t seen him. He tried the library, and a small garden Jaskier had showed him in deep winter that froze over. It was too small to skate on, which meant Lambert didn’t care for it. But it was small and beautiful.   
  
He walked the city, looking for him in the shops, and then checked back in the apartment. He even went to knock on Essi Daven’s door, and the pretty bard wasn’t home. Eskel sat in the courtyard under the tree Lambert had sat in the last day they were in Oxenfurt until it was dark. Julian shouldn’t be so difficult to find, unless he was avoiding him. So he stood, and trudged his way back to the apartment, to sleep and try again tomorrow.    
  
When Eskel swung the door open, however, Julian was standing by the table in the middle of his sitting room. He was running his fingers along the straps of Eskel’s saddlebags. He’d heard the door swing open and Eskel could smell the worry, and see the tense lines of his shoulders.    
  
“Eskel? Are you here to tell me something’s happened?”   
  
“I suppose you could put it that way, yes.”   
  
“Is Lambert-”   
  
“He’s fine. Don’t know what we did, Jules, but I think he may be more feral now then he ever was before. You should’ve seen him wave that dagger at me, it was magnificent. Just that edge of nobility you carved into him.”   
  
At the mention of the threat, Jaskier turned, and gasped. Lambert had not pulled his punches. Jaskier shifted close, running soft fingers along each mark. Eskel had a black eye and bruises to spare. They’d be mostly gone by morning, but Eskel didn’t bother with salves. He deserved them.    
  
“Eskel, what- why?”   
  
“Ah, Jules. So, you ran away. I didn’t expect that, but maybe I deserved it.”    
  
“Ran away from what? You? I didn’t. You said you’d miss us? I said goodbye?”    
  


Eskel shook his head. “Yeah, Lam was right. I definitely deserve it, damn. Ok. I said I would miss raising Lambert with you, yes. He was small, and watching him blossom under your sunshine was breathtaking. I wasn’t trying to say goodbye, Julian.”    
  
Jaskier frowned.    
  
Eskel signed, a small, quiet sigh. He took Jaskier’s hands in his own, and knelt before the bard. “Julian, is it so hard to see how dearly I love you? I would burn the world for you. I would bring you anything you asked for, from the farthest corners of the world. I would follow you into hell, and use your sunshine to find my way back. You are not a thing to be kept, but I would keep you if you let me. I’d take whatever you would offer me, but you already hold my heart in your hands.”    
  
Julian was quiet, tears running down his face. He was quiet so long, Eskel rubbed his thumbs on the backs of Julian’s hands. His mind was racing, to figure out how he could prove his devotion, what he could do to show it that he nearly missed the single word Julian whispered. “Everything.”    
  
“Jules?”   
  
“Everything. I’d give you everything I could. I’m almost sorry that you’ll always come second to Lambert, but… that isn’t a problem for you, is it? You would stand beside me, between him and the world. You don’t even care I gave my title away, that I might have killed my cousin, and that apparently when my father called me a bastard he  _ actually meant it.”  _ _   
_ _   
_ “Julian, I love you.”   
  
“Lambert told you, didn’t he.”   
  
“I love you.”   
  
“That feral little piglet, the first time he told me that I cried so hard, I had to explain it and I did not realize that  _ he would use it against me.”  _ _   
_ _   
_ “Well he threatened to eviscerate me if I didn’t tell you how I felt so maybe our parenting choices weren’t the best. Still love you, though.”    
  
“He’s a good boy.” Jaskier sniffed, haughtily.    
  
“He said he’d be here for Midinváerne.” 

“Why are you still kneeling, Eskel?”   
  
“Because I love you, I’m offering everything I am to you, and I’m waiting to hear you accept it.”   
  
“You seem awful sure of yourself.”   
  
“It is a gamble, you can be a contrary little bird. But I think you love me too, so I’m willing to wait. As long as it takes.”    
  
Julian smiled. “You heard what Triss said. Well a hundred years, just until wrinkles. That’s an awful long time to attach yourself to a bard.”   
  
“Might get a bit sore, kneeling that long. I’d appreciate it if you could bring me some ale.”    
  
“Oh get up you fool of a witcher I have loved you since the festival. You danced with us. I thought you were the most beautiful man I’d ever seen the moment I saw you, but I knew I’d never love another when you held my sleeping son, with the flowers he braided in your hair.” Jaskier bent down and kissed him softly, pulling him forward until he stood up. They lost themselves in kisses, sweet and soft. 


	29. Coming Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final Chapter. :) After this will be an epilogue, set a few years in the future.
> 
> Whoop nearly forgot, thar be porn here again. Marked off with **** as usual.

  
Lambert left the keep two days after Eskel and Jaskier, Triss asking too many questions about who he was looking for, but an old blue shirt in his room gave her enough to trace and portal him to Sodden. He packed the handful of small wooden toys and his journal in the bottom of his bag, but laughed and shook his head when he found his old full journal missing. Jaskier must have taken it to put in his room in Oxenfurt.  
  
The bag of coin was heavy, and Lambert was momentarily concerned, but shrugged. Jaskier wouldn’t leave himself completely broke, and Triss had portaled him home. So he split up the coin around his bags, to limit the risk of losing it all.  
  
It took him weeks before he’d heard any rumors, and he finally got a tip. Lambert slipped through the alley of Brugge, the city filthy and stinking. He found the old, abandoned mill on the edge of town. He tied Nightmare just inside the treeline. She’d need a lot more work before she’d be as good at ground tie as Scorpion, and they ended up not having the time to train her as they intended. He was sure Eskel would still help train her. If Lambert didn’t have to kill him. Geralt had Roach pretty well trained. A decent second choice. He didn't use to travel with a horse, but the constant reminder of his family was welcome. 

For now, it was time to focus. Lambert crept around the edge of the clearing, scenting the area. Lavender and catmint. Wood rot and mold, from the mill. And too much blood. He picked his way across the clearing, carefully avoiding the traps. The door smelled faintly of explosives, so Lambert eyed the building carefully, and climbed the wall. He stretched to reach the window, and swung himself into the room.  
  
He rolled forward through the window, stopping in a crouch only to feel a dagger at his neck and hot breath in his ear. “What the fuck are you doing here?”  
  
The soft angry voice was so full of pain, Lambert raised his hands. “I came to find you. It’s been two and a half years, I needed to see you. Tell you some things. Can we talk?”  
  
“You don’t _talk_ . We _fuck. Why do you have his face.”_ _  
__  
_“It’s me, kitten. Please?”  
  
The dagger retreated, and Lambert turned around slowly. It’d been so long, but the face before him was familiar as ever. Choppy blond hair hung down to their chin, matted with blood. They held one arm tightly to their side, and Lambert could smell the blood. Too sharp cheekbones and a lopsided smirk belied the hurt in the single green eye. The other was milky grey. He gasped, reaching out to touch the damaged eye and hesitated.  
  
“You disappeared for two years, Lambert. Shit happens, you know that.”  
  
“Not on purpose, kitten. What happened?”  
  
“Contract went wrong. Town tried to kill me. You know how it goes.”  
  
Lambert crept closer, gently taking the dagger and tossing it aside. He started unbuckling armor gently and slowly, trying to keep the coiled fear of the witcher in front of him calm. He whispered softly “Do you have supplies or do I need to climb back out the window?”  
  
A broken laugh stilled him. “I’m lucky to have my swords, pup.”  
  
Lambert stilled. “Alright. Stay here, I’m going to go get my pack. I don’t know if I want to risk removing more of your ridiculous mail without it and you smell like you need stitches, and something is infected. Please. Don’t run.”  
  
A derisive snort followed him as he lowered himself out the window. “Pup, you’re the one who ran last time.”  
  
Golden eyes peered at a green one before dropping out of sight. “I know. I’m sorry, kitten.”  
  
The witcher startled, in shock, still frozen when Lambert returned.  
  
It took the better part of two hours for Lambert to get all of their wounds cleaned, stitched, and bandaged. He even sacrificed one of his water skins to carefully wash the matted blood out of their hair, but it had just been a nasty scrape. Head wounds bleed horribly.  
  
“You gonna tell me what happened, Lambchop?”  
  
Lambert sighed, and handed over a bowl of cured meat, cheese and a hunk of bread. “It’s a stupid fucking story, but kind of the best, too. Remember that damn mage contract? The crazy kid that kept killing men?”  
  
“The one I told you not to take? _”_ _  
__  
_“Aiden, come on.” They raised their hands in surrender, urging him on. “Anyway. I may have lost my temper. Said some things I shouldn't have about their daddy issues. Got hit with a bitch of a curse that may have knocked me back to about eight years old.”  
  
“Excuse me, what?”  
  
“I know damn well you heard me, kitten.”  
  
“Eight.”  
  
“Yeah. knocked me back to the day my dad sold me to the Witcher.”  
  
“Wait, you were eight? What the hell, pup, that’s late. And they still put you through the trials?”  
  
“Kitten, not the point of the story.” Lambert sighed, and scrubbed a hand through his hair.  
  
“I like your hair like this, you know. It’s longer than mine now. Makes you look less angry, I think. Or maybe that’s just your face.”  
  
“It’s just my face, ok? Come on. So. I may have run into Jaskier, and he adopted me, and now I’m a viscount, and I want to take you to meet him.”  
  
Aiden just stared. “Lambsteak you know I love you but I fear you’ve hit your head too hard.”  
  
“That’s why I came. Once the curse broke, I remembered everything. And I realized I was a fucking moron, and I needed to find you. I needed to tell you I love you, too.”  
  
In a flash of teeth and snarling, Aiden had a dagger sunk until Lambert’s gut. “The _fuck_ kitten?” He coughed, staggering back, a hand on the wound.  
  
Aiden stood, staring stupidly at the blood on the silver dagger and Lambert bent over, pressing a hand to his gut in front of him. “But. How? That can’t be you, I said I loved you and you… didn’t run? You even said…”  
  
“Aiden you dumb fucking cat will you get over here and help me deal with this? Seriously was I _that_ inept that just acknowledging feelings mean you have to _stab me.”_ _  
__  
_“I mean. Kinda, yeah.”  
  
“Well. I guess I deserve that. Come here, sweetheart, stitch my wound, we’ll split a romantic bottle of swallow and I’ll tell you a nice long story about my Dad. I promised to bring you to meet him.”  
  
“I’ve met Vesemir, I’ll pass.” They waved a hand while undressing Lambert efficiently.  
  
“Didn’t say Vesemir, now did I?”  
  
They talked through most of the night, curled up together on Lambert’s bedroll. It took two days before Aiden was up to traveling, Lambert climbing up and down the building like a particularly large raccoon to fetch food and care for Nightmare. The third morning, Aiden slid a hand down the front of Lambert’s trousers as he slept, palming his morning erection, gently scratching their nails on his thighs. Lambert awoke with a shudder. “Morning.” Aiden tilted a wicked smile. “Feel like breakfast?”

*******************************

  
Lambert groaned, and pulled Aiden down into a deep kiss, grinding up into their hand. “Kitten don’t tease, come on.”  
  
“Let me take my time, it’s been too long.” Aiden straddled him, sliding his shirt up with both hands, kissing and licking up his chest, nipping at his nipples. When Lambert’s hands were above his head Aiden tangled their fingers together, pressing him into the ground. Aiden was only slightly shorter, but where Lambert was broad and hairy, Aiden was lean and graceful. Aiden rolled their hips against Lambert’s painfully hard cock, making Lambert throw his head back and groan.  
  
“Please, Kitten.”  
  


Aiden near purred, pressing Lambert’s wrists down, sliding down to pull off Lambert’s trousers. They stood, looking down and the panting and aroused witcher below them, nude and wanting. “This is a good look on you, you know. I could have you like this every day.” They stripped slowly, listening to Lambert groan at the slow baring of skin.  
  
“I think you deserve a treat, my little wolf pup, for coming back to me. And using your words.” Aiden straddled Lambert again, curling around him, rocking against his aching cock. “You look so beautiful right now, hair so long, panting. Beg for it, my love. _Beg.”_ _  
__  
_“Please, Aiden. Please, ride me. Use me. I’m yours, as long as you’ll have me.”  
  
Aiden choked back a gasping sob, lowering themselves on Lambert’s hardness. Lambert arched up desperately, crying out. “ _Please_ Aiden let me touch you.”  
  
Riding him slowly, Aiden watched Lambert crack and crumble, planting his feet on the floor to meet Aiden’s thrusts. Finally Aiden gasped out a broken “Yes, Lambert, please.”  
  
Lambert’s hands flashed to where they were joined, pressing a thumb firmly, circling until Aiden came with a scream, head thrown back. He curled up, and caught the Cat with a strong arm, rolling them over. His hand slid down the smaller witcher’s leg, drawing it around his waist. He slid back into that wet heat, and drove a punishing pace, desperate to hear his name falling off the lips of the one he loved so dearly and nearly lost.   
  


********************

They spent the day pouring their love into the arms finally ready to catch it. Lambert was overwhelmed, but when night fell, both witchers curled together naked and calm. “Will you stay with me? I promised to be in Oxenfurt by Midinváerne. I want you to winter with me. Dad won’t care if we stay in the city or go to Kaer Morhen.”  
  
“Lambert, I’ve told you every time you’ve left that all I want to be is where you are. If you’re finally ready, I’m not going to leave your side.”  
  
\-------  
  


They traveled north slowly, taking contracts side by side. Lambert bought Aiden a horse they named Turnip, allowing them both to make better time. A long season of hunting, and working with Aiden helped Lambert not feel rusty after so much time not even lifting his blades. They spent nearly as much time training as they did relearning each other’s bodies.  
  
Aiden was delighted with the stories Lambert told of his time with Jaskier. Aiden had been sold so young that they had no memory of life outside of the Cat’s caravan, so there was a little jealousy. But it was hard to feel anything negative when the change in Lambert let the young witcher finally feel safe in letting his love and joy show.  
  
They were in a marketplace in Mirthe, on the way to Oxenfurt when Aiden noticed Lambert’s eye caught on a frame drum. His fingers brushed over it, but he moved on to a stall with brightly colored embroidered shirts. Aiden startled the merchant gliding up silently, but purchased the drum and long leather strap. The drum strap hung across their chest, the drum hanging out of sight behind them. Lambert was so distracted and delighted, picking up two new brightly colored and embroidered shirts for Jaskier, and another shirt and a dagger for Eskel that Aiden’s sneaky purchase went unnoticed.  
  
With purchases made and a bit more food for the trail obtained, they headed back to the camp. Aiden was now delighted with the successful deception, and determined to keep it up until they’d made it back to the camp. As Lambert rebuilt a new campfire, Aiden sat cross legged behind him, the drum held out, waiting.  
  
“The fuck, kitten?”  
  
“You said Jaskier taught you to play, right? So play for me!”  
  
Lambert laughed long and loud, kissing Aiden softly. “Thanks, my love. Apparently you’re my biggest blind spot, since I didn’t even notice you getting it. Come on, I’ll teach you some songs.”  
  
The night was filled with laughter and music, with Lambert playing even the bawdy songs that Essi had taught him, making him promise not to sing them around Julian.  
  
\--------------  
  
The day before Midinváerne, Eskel and Julian were curled together around the fireplace in his apartment. They had spent quite a bit of the season on the path around Redania. Eskel found camping a wonderful opportunity to make Julian howl. Julian delighted in writing new songs and performing them in taverns. He wrote songs about the wolves who kept the dark at bay. He sang about young knights with golden eyes, and powerful princes who breathed fire. He sang of how gentle wolves were fierce protectors. He sang about a shield wall of witchers holding back the darkness. He poured his love for his new family into his songs, using his skill and fame as a weapon, fighting the hatred that made his wolves unhappy and unsafe.  
  
But now, they were home, waiting for Lambert. They had wine and were curled up, Julian on Eskel’s lap under a blanket as the leaves fell outside and a cold stiff wind blew. Eskel finally tipped his head, and nudged Jaskier, who put the book he was reading to Eskel down. “He’s coming. Bringing someone. I think another witcher?”  
  
The door opened slowly, Lambert smiling to see them both soft and happy. He knew Eskel could smell the catmint that was so common to Cat Witchers. Well, that and what they’d gotten up to this morning before braving the city. He was deliberately showing Lambert he was relaxed and accepting. Julian was delighted to see someone behind him, leaning to try and see them better. Lambert had his saddlebags in his left hand, and tossed them aside as he pulled Aiden gently into the apartment behind him. Their fingers were linked, but Aiden hid behind Lambert, still unsure of how another witcher would respond. “Dad? I want you to meet someone. This is Aiden.” 


	30. 5 Years Later (Epilogue)

It was the day before Midinváerne, the date for the wedding chosen since so much of their relationship, and changes in their lives, seemed to revolve around the winter. The keep was more full than it had been in many years. 

The great benefit of having two sorceresses involved in the planning of your wedding was that if properly bribed, they can take great delight in decorating even the oldest, most dreary keep. It was mostly Ciri who took over planning, now a grown woman. She delighted in the romance of it all, directing Yenn’s magic, much to her mother’s amusement. The training grounds that were once so often filled with the sound of sword fights and signs, and even one warm summer the sound of a young Lambert’s joyful songs, were now seeing a new purpose. 

Yenn and Ciri were hanging garlands around the courtyard with bright yellow forsythia, cornflowers, and chamomile. Triss and Essi were busily filling planters with pine boughs with Vesemir’s help. He had enlisted Lambert and Aiden to fill a small cart with them for the single purpose of tiring them out a little, and then again chopping wood to fill small braziers around the courtyard to cut the bite of the incoming winter and keep the humans attending more comfortable. It didn't help much, the two youngest witchers still vibrating balls of energy.    
  
Geralt had taken to the task of clearing the ground, scraping away the worst of the igni scorch marks, removing training detritus and setting up the furniture. Mignole, Lambert and Eskel were in the kitchen, cooking a feast. Eskel had to keep busy, and Mignole was happy for the help. They’d managed to talk Eskel into a deep blue doublet, stitched through with soft gold accents. The cut only made the near mountain of a man look taller, and broader. The trousers were cut to highlight his ass, a fact that amused him but Yenn promised would delight Jaskier. Lambert did his best to threaten Eskel with a fork to take care of his dad, but Mignole had heard that sort of shovel talk before. Deeming it unnecessary, she handed Lambert a bowl of pudding to keep his mouth busy, and patted Eskel on the cheek. “Don’t you worry, boy. I know you’ll do right by your man.”   
  
Jaskier was pacing on the small balcony he loved to play music on, watched over by Aiden. The bright and confident bard was facing a moment of nerves. He didn’t want to run, he just needed to move. He was dressed in a deep burnished gold doublet, with dark blue detailing that matched the blue Eskel wore. As was his habit, the cut of the clothing disguised how tall and broad he was, the lines narrowing his shoulders making him look lean and graceful. He still looked enormous next to the slim Cat Witcher. 

Suddenly, Jaskier stopped, facing Aiden. “Okay, Wait. You’re here to distract me, you’re dating my boy. Blah blah, shovel talk. Don’t hurt him. Threats and that really is more Eskel’s department. When are you two thinking of” Jaskier waved a hand at the keep, “all this?”    
  
“Oh! Lambert owes me 10 oren. He thought Eskel would ask me first.” Aiden chirped happily, swinging his feet. “The pup and I already talked about it. We are gonna wait maybe another 10 or so years? He wants to get married at Lettenhove, but since they last saw him as a kid, we’re gonna wait for enough time to pass that there aren’t as many questions.”    
  
“He wants to marry at Lettenhove? Why?”   
  
“Jaskier. Pop. Can I call you pop? I don’t have a dad, Lambert kind of has three. Don’t tell him I said that, he pretends he doesn’t look at Vesemir and Eskel that way. Anyway, he said I can share if you don’t mind. Want another kid? Anyway, you gave him a home. He grew up hating here, though it’s nice now, Oxenfurt is fun, but he says Lettenhove is where you became a real family.”   
  
Jaskier couldn’t help it, Aiden’s cheerful ramblings made him bark out a sobbing laugh. “Aiden this is so much information all at once! First, yes. Come give your Pop a hug, you are mine now and never will be rid of me. Lambert is going to question your life choices. And thank you, for telling me that. I really needed to hear it. Now, shall we go down? I think I need to marry my husband now.    
  
Aiden dashed ahead, leaving Jaskier laughing. When Eskel and Julian finally married, with flower crowns braided by Lambert and Ciri, they were surrounded by their family. The snow just started to fall, catching in their hair, sparkling in the air. Eskel just laughed, brushing the flakes off of Julian’s face before he pulled him close for a sweet kiss, the start of a long life promised officially to each other. 

**Author's Note:**

> (Please feel free to let me know if there's anything I ought to tag for that I've missed. <3)


End file.
